


The Enemy of My Enemy

by ChillsofFire



Series: Faults in the System [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gore, M/M, Psychological Torture, Slave coding, Sticky Sex, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 154,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillsofFire/pseuds/ChillsofFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Decepticons underestimate a dangerous opponent, and an accident leaves the Autobots reeling. Now two of their most fearsome enemies are at large again, with only one thing on their minds: revenge. If either side is to survive, they must put the past behind them once more and come together to face the evil they let escape. But there is a lot of damage to overcome, and some enemies cannot be defeated by teamwork alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for Transformers. I would love any feedback you guys have on this, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'll probably be adding tags as I go, so please be mindful of that

“No, no! Megatron! I’m here to serve you!” Everything had been going so well…how had it gone so wrong? How had a child been able to beat them?

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Silas was scared. He couldn’t remember ever being this scared before. Not as a child, not as a soldier, not even as a human standing over the giant robotic organisms he had been so close to joining.

No…it was now; now that he had tried to be one of them and been cast aside, now that he was be dragged from the bridge by two Vehicon soldiers, that he was scared. Terrified.

He was _pleading,_ for God’s sake. He had never pleaded before. He hated that he was doing it now. But he couldn’t move his body, electricity from the shock prod still arching through his veins, and that medic, Knock Out, the one who had been glaring at him with murderous intent from the moment he had stepped onto the _Nemesis,_ was smiling, _grinning._ Grinning with psychotic joy, following him out as the Vehicons dragged him to his death.

And Megatron never flinched. He was watching Silas get dragged away with an almost amused expression on his face. He watched Knock Out follow his new lab experiment off the bridge, watched Silas’ feeble attempts to free himself. He watched, and he was silent.

 _Did he ever intend to let me join them?_ Silas couldn’t help but ask himself as the door automatically slid shut behind Knock Out. _Or had he been toying with me this whole time? Did he just want to see if my weapon would be useful? Was I always going to be a lab experiment?_ The thought filled Silas with a delirious kind of anger, the kind that was there and gone in a flash, chased away by his panic.

“What should I start with first?” Knock Out mused, almost talking to himself, looking at Silas like a predator ready to tear apart his prey. Silas did not like being prey. “I suppose I should try to discover just how you managed to merge yourself with his frame.”

_His? Right…Breakdown…_

Breakdown. The first robot he had managed to catch. The first one he had torn into.

Knock Out’s mate.

“But that could kill you too quickly,” Knock Out continued, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, “and we can’t have you dying so soon.” There was that grin again. Silas wanted to vomit.

 _Can they vomit?_ The churning in his stomach area, a somehow both familiar and alien feeling, told him that yes, yes they could.

“Oh, I know!” Knock Out looked sickeningly delighted at the idea that seemed to have suddenly popped into his mind. “Take him to the med bay.” He instructed the Vehicons, “Get him strapped in tightly. I have to grab a new tool.” And suddenly he was gone, humming to himself as he made his way down a different hallway.

Silas tried to struggle again, his limbs were still sluggish, refusing to move the way he wanted them to. It only served to panic him more.

“Release me!” He roared, his voice echoing in the corridor. The Vehicons acted as though they hadn’t heard him. “I’ll make you pay for this! Release me now!”

 _If I don’t get free, if I let them strap me down, I will never get out of here. Focus._ He was a soldier. He had been trained for special operations; he knew how to handle stressful situations. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Silas focused all his energy into getting his body to respond properly.

One of the Vehicons adjusted his grip on Silas’ arm. Silas felt the slight loosening of the hand on his plating.

 _Come on, come on!_ His feet finally shifted, planting firmly against the floor he was being dragged across. It wasn’t much, but it gave Silas the stability he needed.

He yanked forward, against the grip the Vehicons had on him.

One arm pulled free, and the Vehicon that had lost his grip let out a started sound, quickly turning to correct his mistake, one arm shifting into a blaster. But Silas was faster. He swung his arm back as hard as he could, slamming the Vehicon across the chest. The force from the blow lifted the ‘con off his pedes; he hit the wall with a loud clang and slid to the ground, giving a low groan. The second Vehicon released Silas’ arm, leaping back with one blaster out, ready to fire.

“Stop!”

Silas grinned, standing to his full height, one hand shifting into a hammer. “I told you that you would pay for that.” And he swung, pivoting on his foot and putting all his considerable body weight behind the hammer as it came crashing in to the Vehicon. The front of his helm crumpled in as the hammer slammed into his face, sending him flying several yards down the hall. Silas stood still for a moment, listening for any sign that other Decepticons had heard the commotion. The relief that flooded over him when he heard nothing almost made him laugh deliriously.

 _That only solves the first problem. I still have to get off this ship._ That was the biggest challenge. He now had a basic knowledge of the ground bridging system… _very_ basic. But he had no idea how to read the Cybertronian glyphs that were splashed across every monitor he had seen, and even if he did, it seemed like the controls for the bridge were back with Megatron and Soundwave. Going back there was not an option.

_My new body is more durable. Maybe I could jump, assuming I’m not too far above the ground._

That outcome seemed unlikely, as the warship had to be flown high enough to avoid detection from anyone on earth.

“I would rather die from a jump than from medical experimentation.” Silas muttered to himself. Jumping it was. Such a shame he had to get transplanted into the body of a car. A grounder, as Starscream had called them. “I just need to find a door.”

There had to be a hatch near the back. Dreadwing had mentioned a flight deck, something about running drills with his armada. Deciding that that was his best chance, Silas lumbered down the hall, away from the medical wing and the Vehicon troopers. This body was not the best for stealth missions, but Silas figured he could make due. His life depended on it, after all.

He knew that his biggest problem would not be the crew itself, as it was evening, most of them would be refueling or recharging, but Knock Out. He would be returning to the medical ward, expecting to find Silas strapped onto his examination table. When Silas was discovered, it would be Knock Out’s doing.

 _I just have to move quickly._ Silas thought back to the monitors on the bridge. There had been blueprints of the ship up at one point, mostly to alert the officers when Project Damocles had been ejected. At the time Silas had only spared the screen a glance, but he had been trained to retain vast amounts of information within a short amount of time. He could handle navigating a ship.

Left, right, left, left, did he need to go up this incline? Another long stretch of hall, one more right.

The hall lit up in emergency red. Alarms, sharp and loud, blared out throughout the ship. Silas swore loudly and bolted, no longer bothering with trying to keep his metal feet quiet.

Did he want this turn?

The shadows that could be seen rushing from the other end of the hall said no.

_I was on the right path. The turns were accurate. Maybe I should have gone up?_

An Insecticon screamed from somewhere behind him, distant but moving closer, the shrill cry mixing with the alarm system to make a grating medley of sound.

 _Ignore it. Keep running. You have to be close._ Silas tried to block the sounds out of his mind. Listening to them, allowing them to ruin his focus, it would only lead to failure. He could handle this. He could escape.

He had to.

One last turn brought him to the wide open space that served as the “hanger”. A triumphant grin spread across his face. The doors slid open automatically for him as he charged forward, out onto the flight deck and to the back edge of the ship. The engines thrummed loudly, though not loud enough to drown out the alarms that were still going off inside.

Silas peered over the edge, trying to see what he would be landing on. But his view was blocked by clouds. A blind jump, not what he would have wanted.

He didn’t have a choice. It was either jump, or be taken again. He could hear the Insecticons approaching his position, he had mere minutes.

 _It’s the impact, or the surgeon, soldier. You’ll never get another chance like this again._ Steeling himself, Silas took a few steps back, ran forward, and jumped.

For a moment, he seemed to hang in the air. The weightlessness of it was surreal; nothing under his feet, neither falling nor standing on solid ground. It was a moment that stretched into eternity, and yet was over in a flash.

He plummeted. Air whipped around him, chilling where it blew into the seams of his armor, screaming past his audial receptors. Clouds flew past him; his vision nothing but grey as he dropped through nothingness. Then they were gone, and land was rushing up to meet him much faster than he would have anticipated.

 _The mountains…!_ Silas did not have time to finish his thought as he struggled to right himself, to land on his feet.

Rock crumbled beneath him, the impact jarring and sudden; there was a loud pop that he couldn’t place. Not even attempting to stay on his feet, Silas rolled, pitched forward by the impact and unable to stop himself. Snow flew in every direction, blinding him, packing itself into his armor. He was falling again, careening off a ledge before landing hard on his side and continuing his downward decent. Roaring wordlessly, he threw his arms out in an attempted to slow himself, to catch himself on something, anything!

Something slammed into his back and he bounced up, landing hard with a crunch of metal. Desperately he clawed at the ground, only to bounce again as he rolled over a jutting rock. The side of the mountain was getting steeper, if he didn’t stop now, he might not be able to until he hit the bottom.

Blinking hard in an attempt to clear the snow from his optics, Silas kicked out wildly, blindly aiming for a foothold. His left foot connected with something solid, sending a jarring pain up through his knee. Desperately he swung his arm out

_Got it!_

And his servo curled around a thick outcrop of rock. His shoulder gave a mechanical whine in protest when his body jerked to a sudden stop, his grip tightening around the rock to ensure he did not begin to slide again.

Snow shifted around him, settling back into place around him. Silas remained still, hardly believing that he was still alive.

 _How far did I fall?_ He felt numb, like his mind and his body were in two different locations. For now, that was a good thing; any pain he might have been in was not being registered, so he would not be hindered by injuries.

Moving slow so as not to lose his footing, Silas stood, releasing his hold on the rock only when he was sure that he would not fall. Blinking snow from his optics, he looked around the area. The air moved with constant gusts of wind, kicking snow up into his face. It was cold, but according to the sensors that were currently pinging him, not so cold that he needed to be concerned.

Looking down at himself, Silas noted that he was dented in several places, one side of his rather large chest was crushed and crumpled from where he had fallen off the ledge, his right leg didn’t seem to want to support any weight, and his left foot seemed to be bent at an odd angle. His right arm was twisted slightly at the elbow, something he tried not to focus on. He had to get off the mountain before he could let the pain over take him.

Above him, he could hear the screaming of Insecticons and the engines of drones as they looked for him, thought he could not yet see them through the clouds. Silas only laughed at their efforts. A mountain like this would have many places for him to hide, and he was back in familiar territory. They no longer stood a chance.

_I’m back on earth. This is my home field. You will never catch me now. And you will regret turning on me, Megatron._

He would get off this mountain, and he would get in contact with the few sleeper agents that he had left inside the military. He would repair himself, he would heal.

Silas would have his revenge.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The Autobots had thought that maybe, just maybe, life was being merciful. After all their struggling, all their losses and pain, all they wanted was a few quiet days to relax. Life did not want to deliver.

Bulkhead had been healing. Then Silas had appeared in Breakdown’s body. What had started off as curbside surveillance had turned into a life or death battle that had set his recovery back by weeks.

MECH was supposed to have been defeated; Agent Fowler had informed them two days before Silas had resurfaced that an old MECH base had been found, complete with the bodies of MECH agents. But four days after Silas had retreated with the Decepticons, Fowler delivered a report that discussed various military personnel going AWOL, and taking advanced, experimental technology with them.

“I knew there were still undercover agents.” Fowler had looked exhausted, his eyes ringed with dark circles and clothing rumpled, voice weary. “I’m sorry everyone. MECH may have returned.”

And now, as Jack had put it, the bitter icing on cake.

Airachnid, the femme that they had fought tooth and nail, the femme who, when all was said and done, was probably their most dangerous opponent, the femme they had thought was safely locked in stasis, was free.

Free and _missing._

Gone. Unaccounted for. Off the grid. Below the radar.

_Vanished._

“How does something like this just _happen_!?” Arcee was shaken, visibly so. She angrily kicked at the fallen metal beam, and the remains of the stasis pod that it had crushed.

“Rust.” Ratchet held himself carefully, his arms stiffly at his sides, emotions kept in check. His EM field was drawn close to his body, almost impossible to read; but Optimus got the feeling that he was holding back a frustrated yell. “Rust and scraplets. They must have weakened the beam. And the earthquakes caused by Unicron’s awakening probably didn’t help. It was an accident waiting to happen.”

“Some accident! Look at this! It was hard enough catching her the first time! Now she’s out there, _again_ , we can’t track her, she took energon, _and_ she knows where our base is!”

“We don’t know that for sure, right?” Bulkhead tried to sound hopeful. “I mean, she did use the ground bridge to leave, maybe she didn’t take the time to look around.”

“That is a _big_ maybe.”

“Hey, relax, Arcee!” Smokescreen looked up from where he and Bumblebee were examining the damage, “You caught her once, you can do it again!”

Ratchet muttered something about “foolish rookie”, and Optimus quickly intervened when Arcee turned a dangerous glare on the newest recruit.

“Airachnid is a dangerous opponent, Smokescreen, and she should not be taken lightly.” Smokescreen wilted slightly under the mild scolding tone. “We all need to exercise extreme caution. There is no way of knowing where Airachnid has retreated to, and with the possibility of MECH being active again, we are in much more danger now than before.”

“Do you think MECH could be working with the Decepticons?” Ratchet asked, stepping away from his position by the wall.

“Silas was in Breakdown’s body,” Bulkhead looked uneasy for a moment, the memory causing his tanks to roll, “And he was taking orders from Megatron.”

Optimus took a breath, “I believe it is a possibility. Though I do not believe Megatron would remain allies with humans for long.”

::So we’re facing at least two, maybe three, separate, very dangerous enemies.:: Bumblebee’s door-wings drooped, his optic ridges furrowed in worry.

“Yes. It appears so.” Optimus turned to Bulkhead, “I do not want you to leave the base until you are fully healed. Neither MECH nor Airachnid will hesitate to use your injuries against you.”

Optimus expected Bulkhead to argue. He knew that the former Wrecker would not want to sit on the sidelines while his team worked. But after some consideration, Bulkhead merely nodded.

“Yes sir. I’m going to go call Jackie, tell him to be careful.”

“A wise decision.”

Bulkhead lumbered off, his left leg dragging slightly behind him as he went. Optimus waited until the drag of metal against the floor could no longer be heard before he turned back to the rest of his team.

“No one is to leave the base alone. We must remain vigilant. Your safety is of upmost importance.”

“What are we going to do with the kids?” Smokescreen dusted his hands off, moving to stand next to Arcee.

“MECH found Jack and June before.” Arcee crossed her arms, “And the ‘cons almost blew a hole through Raf’s house.”

“Until a more permanent solution can be found, we will need to keep the children under surveillance.” Optimus paused, thinking deeply. In order for them to cover all three children while remaining in pairs, everyone, minus Bulkhead, would be forced to keep watch over them at night. It was not ideal, as it took them away from energon runs and limited their availability should an emergency arise. “I will contact Agent Fowler. Perhaps he could assist us in this.”

Arcee nodded, looking down once more at the remains of the stasis pod.

_I will find you, Airachnid. You can’t hide forever. When you show up again, I’ll be waiting. And this time, you won’t get off so easy._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The forest was dark, quiet except for the rustling of leaves shifting in the light breeze. Stars glimmered in the spaces between the canopies, their light barely reaching to the forest floor. A sliver of moon peered from behind wisps of clouds in the night sky.

A wolf howled somewhere in the trees, its lone voice echoing through the still air.

Something dropped to the ground with a dull thud, stirring up dirt and leaves. The little light that was able to filter through the leaves reflected off of a large clear cube.

“That was refreshing.” A velvety voice murmured, the sound blending easily into the sounds of the dark forest. “I will have to thank the Autobots for their hospitality, before I rip out their sparks.” Silver fangs flashed, and branches shifted as the being moved from one sturdy tree to another. A faint purple glow illuminated the rough bark and shimmered off the surface of a black servo.

Airachnid smirked to herself. “They will regret their decision to keep me alive. I’ll make sure of that.” Smoothly, she dropped down to the forest floor, an appreciative hum vibrating through her chassis as her legs were allowed to stretch after so long in stasis. Quietly she began to walk through the trees, taking in every sight and sound.

“Of course, I shouldn’t stop with them. Megatron did try to have me terminated after all. I still have to repay him for that.” She tapped her claws against the trunk of a tree, seeming thoughtful. “My Insecticons are most likely on board with him. They could tear him, and the rest of his crew to pieces.” Scratches appeared deep in the bark as she dragged her claws along. “But what fun would that be? After all the trouble he’s put me through, I should at least be able to watch Megatron die. And Soundwave, after he humiliated me…no. I would much rather kill him myself.” A sly smile spread across her face.

“But that doesn’t mean I can allow my pets to remain under his control. I could use them after all.”

She stopped, optics focused up, servos resting lightly on the trees beside her.

“ _Insecticons,”_ Fangs flashed once more, dangerous in the moonlight, “ _Your queen has returned._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a possible distress beacon from Silas appears on the ships radar, Megatron isn't taking any chances. But sending Soundwave out to do recon might prove more disastrous than either of them could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments on the last chapter, I'm glad you liked it! I hope you continue to enjoy reading this!

_The webbing feels different against this body._ Silas thought wryly. He pulled against the sticky substance that had him pinned against a tree, more out of curiosity than out of any hope of getting free. Against his human skin, the webbing had felt cool; most likely due to it’s the metallic make-up. But against this body, against his new metal chassis, the webbing felt warm.

“You know, I really should eviscerate you for this.” Silas looked up, pulled from his musings about his confines, to look at the familiar femme in front of him. Airachnid, a smirk curling the corners of her silver lip plates, stood on her spindly spider legs, the sharp points gouging into the earth as she circled her newest catch.

“What you’ve done to a fellow Decepticon,” She tutted as she moved behind him, “Barbaric, in every sense of the word. Though, I must say, highly creative.”

Silas had only been free for a little over a week, and if he were being honest with himself, he had to admit that things had been going very smoothly. It had taken him two days to get off the mountain, touching ground somewhere in the western half of Colorado. By then he had learned how to shut off the various pain sensors that were firing off in his injuries. It had taken him several hours of sorting through internal, alien coding, but the wave of relief that had washed over him when the pain had flicked off made the lost time worth it.

Two days after finishing his descent, he had contacted the sizeable amount of sleeper agents he still had in the military. They had found him in an abandoned barn, slipping in and out of consciousness as warnings of low fuel and information about his injuries pinged insistently. They had repaired him quickly, working off of information that had been privately sent to them on MECH’s secure server. Finding him energon had been a bit of a challenge, but he had been refueled in a satisfactory amount of time.

Running into Airachnid was…certainly a rough patch.

“Poor Breakdown, being taken by you twice.” Airachnid continued as she moved into his field of vision again, “Had I known you were going to get your fleshy hands on him, I might have bothered cleaning up the mess I made when I killed him.”

“So it was you.” Silas answered calmly, his one working optic following her movements. “I saw how you left him. You were extremely thorough.”

“Well, one can never be too careful.” Airachnid’s smirk grew. “Tell me, what’s happened to you? You’ve integrated yourself with Cybertronian biology, yet you continue to skulk around the forests.”

“I worked alongside Megatron for a short while. We…did not see eye to eye.”

Airachnid laughed, the sound cold and mocking, “He attempted to dissect you, didn’t he? Oh that must have felt just _awful,_ being on the other side of the scalpel.”

Silas grit his denta, forcing his tone to remain civil, “This is the second time you have threatened to eviscerate me. Last time, you wanted to make a deal. Since I am still in one piece, I assume you want to do so again.”

“How very observant of you.” Airachnid stopped her pacing, transforming into her bipedal mode so she could stand in front of him. Though her size was unimpressive, the pointed blades that were now almost lazily waving in front of his face reminded Silas that she was still very, very dangerous. “You and I have very similar goals, Silas. You want revenge; I want to destroy Megatron and the rest of his crew. The Autobots too, while I’m at it, if only to show them how foolish it was for them to keep me alive.”

“And?”

“And I have an army of Insecticons at my command, large enough and powerful enough to attack anyone unlucky enough to cross my path. But, simply wiping the others from the face of this miserable planet would be too easy. You remember how much I enjoy toying with my prey.”

“I do.”

“I never truly had the chance to learn about this planet, and you are going to need help caring for your new body. Help me locate the others, and I will deliver as many of them to you as you want. I would truly enjoy watching Megatron become a puppet under your control.”

“And what makes you think I want more of them?”

“Don’t be coy, Silas. I know your type. You want as much power as you can get, you want the knowledge, the brute strength. What better way to bend the people of this planet to your will than by leading an army of men like you? I can deliver that to you. All you have to do is lend me your resources.”

Silas eyed her, his face unreadable. Last time he had worked with her, things had gone fairly well, all things considered. The ones who had caused problems were the Autobot, Arcee, and that boy, Jack. Airachnid was powerful, she had more inside knowledge than him, and she wanted the same thing he did. Of course, there was no trusting her, not completely. Not unless he wanted to end up like Breakdown had. But for now…perhaps an alliance could work.

“How do you propose we start?”

Airachnid grinned. Moving quickly, she sliced through the web that confined him, granting him freedom once more. Her purple optics glowed in the dark, shining off her teeth in a way that unnerved Silas, though he did not show it. A low laugh purred from her throat.

“First, we need a distress beacon.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Have you located him yet?”

“No, Lord Megatron.”

“What about Airachnid?”

“Negative on her too.”

Megatron growled, “First we lose a human foolish enough to hold himself equal to us, then we lose half of our forces overnight!” He huffed through his vents, holding his anger in check.

“We will have to guard our energon mines even more closely. Airachnid will be looking for fuel, and Silas will no doubt be looking for his own supply.” Megatron scowled, his sharp claws twitching as he resisted the urge to clench his fists, “I will have to tell Dreadwing to increase security.” He turned to face the front of the bridge, observing Soundwave as he worked at the front most computer console.

Losing Silas had been a blow to the ship’s pride, but Megatron had told himself that they could come back from it. The true problem was losing the Insecticons. Five days after Silas’ escape, every Insecticon on the ship, in the mines, or on patrol, had taken off in a frenzied roar of wings and screams. They had all known what that meant.

_Airachnid has proven to be quite treacherous, and disregarding Silas, after everything he has accomplished, would be a dangerous mistake. And with the Autobots still functioning, we will have to move swiftly if we wish to harvest our energon supplies for ourselves._

_The mines are not the only asset we have out there…it is obvious that the Autobots do not have him, and Silas has already had a glimpse of how useful his information can be…if he is caught again…_

Megatron turned back toward the Vehicons currently monitoring the computer consoles that took up the side walls of the bridge, “While you are attempting to track down Airachnid and Silas, keep a look out for Starscream as well.”

They paused, turning to face their leader, “You want us to find Starscream?”

“Starscream may have abandoned the Decepticons, but he holds information that Silas could find valuable. That is how Silas discovered the use of energon, after all. If Starscream is captured again, he could hand over sensitive information that could be used to hinder our cause. I would rather have him on board, where I can keep my eyes on him, than on earth, where he may be used against us.”

Finding the reasoning acceptable, the Vehicons nodded and turned back to their work, adding Starscream’s spark signal to the computers search.

Seeing no reason to linger by the troops, Megatron moved to stand behind Soundwave, his gaze aimed out the large windows of the ship. “Have you heard anything from the Autobots recently?”

Soundwave turned to face him, his visor flickering with speech patterns as the voices of Wheeljack and Bulkhead filled the room.

_“Jackie, this is serious. Airachnid and Silas are trouble.”_

_“There’s always trouble, Bulk. I’ll be fine.”_

_“I’m not talking about average ‘cons, Jackie. Airachnid is sadistic, and Silas…you didn’t see what he did to Breakdown. To ‘Bee. I don’t want you out there on your own.”_

Megatron raised an optic ridge at the edge of fear in Bulkhead’s voice. A scoff came from Soundwave’s recording.

_“I’ve been on my own a long time. I think I can handle the creepy crawly and a human.”_

_“Look, I know you can handle Airachnid, but it’s a safe bet that she called out her bugs again. And Miko told me what happened with Hardshell. And Silas…Silas is dangerous. You can’t underestimate him. He isn’t human anymore, Wheeljack. He…Primus, what he did to Breakdown…”_

_“This has got you pretty freaked, doesn’t it?”_

_“I just don’t want you by yourself. Come back to base. Please?”_

_“Doc isn’t going to be too happy to see me.”_

The relief in Bulkhead’s voice was obvious, _“Yeah, well, I will be. Find a safe place to land, I’ll bridge you in.”_

_“Give me five kliks.”_

The recording cut with a hiss of static.

“So, the Autobots know of the situation.” Megatron clasped his servos behind his back, his voice thoughtful.

_And how will you handle this, Optimus? You seem so fond of protecting these creatures, how will you deal with this one, now that he has defiled one of our own?_

“How is your progress on Project: Iacon?”

Soundwave turned back to the monitors, returning to the code that flowed over the screens. Megatron could see half of a deciphered set of coordinates.

“Excellent work. With any luck, the new opposition on Earth will slow Optimus and his troops long enough for us to claim the remaining relics.”

Soundwave chose not to respond, returning his focus to the task at hand. So far the search for the relics had proven to be annoyingly balanced. That was assuming, of course, that Starscream still held the Apex Armor.

Behind him, Megatron was quiet, continuing to watch out the window as he mused.

_If Airachnid is only now reclaiming the Insecticon hive, then she must have been previously trapped by the Autobots, well out of communication range. How did you manage to lose her, Optimus?_

“Lord Megatron.” One of the Vehicons spoke up from his post, “We’ve picked up a signal.”

“Who is it?” Megatron turned, giving the Vehicon his full attention.

“According to the computer, it’s Silas.”

“Good, one less parasite for us to concern ourselves with.”

“Should I call Commander Dreadwing, sir?”

Megatron did not answer for a moment, then, “No. Dreadwing is not the one for this mission.”

“Sir?”

“With Airachnid’s return to the battlefield, we cannot afford to assume anything. Setting a trap with a false beacon has been a Decepticon trick since the beginning of this war, and it would not surprise me to see her attempt to use it against us.” He turned to Soundwave, noting that the mech was already facing him, awaiting his command, “Go to the signals location, and see if this is truly Silas reappearing on our radar.”

Soundwave nodded once.

“Move swiftly. If it is indeed Silas, we cannot afford to lose him again.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

In the interest of saving time, Soundwave used the ground bridge in order to travel to the signals location. In the interest of stealth, he opened the bridge high in the air, where the clouds would cover his arrival, and flew down to survey the scene.

The signal had disappeared, but the coordinates from which it originating led Soundwave to a cave hidden deep within a vast forest. It was cut deep in the face of a steep wall of stone, almost hidden from view due to the thick cluster of trees.

The entire situation seemed dangerous to the spymaster. Flying among the trees would be a challenge, should he need to retreat, and if he were required to enter the cave, he would be left vulnerable to attack. He would need to be cautious.

For this reason, Soundwave transformed and landed several meters away from the opening in the rocks, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of life. His sensors detected nothing, but he noted, with displeasure, that they could not read very far into the cave itself.

That explained the signals disappearance. Silas was smart. For a human.

Of course, remembering the reason Megatron had sent him in the first place; Soundwave had to consider the possibility that it was not Silas in there at all. It could just as easily be Airachnid. And while Soundwave could handle her, he knew that her Insecticons would not be far behind her, and they could pose a threat.

This left Soundwave with a decision to make. He could not report back to Megatron with complete certainty that Silas was present in the cave, nor could he ignore the risks that could arise should he venture into the cave to be sure. His body was no longer equipped for long, hard battles. He had traded that part of himself away long ago in order to focus on intelligence operations.

He could not be certain either way. Continuing the search could lead to injury, but leaving the area would risk the escape of whoever was in the cave. Rationally speaking, there was really only one good option.

Soundwave compiled a data packet, complete with his findings and the possible outcomes of the current situation, and sent it to Megatron’s personal comm signal.

The disruptive static sounded over the comm link at the same time Silas’ signal reappeared on Soundwave’s radar.

Above the cave.

“Well, well, well. I never would have guessed that Megatron would send you to collect a prisoner. What a lovely surprise.”

Soundwave’s shifted his gaze, looking up to the top of the rocky cliff.

Airachnid grinned down at him, her black armor glittering in the rays of sunlight that were able to filter through the full canopy of leaves overhead. A glowing, yellow device was clasped in her servos. Soundwave’s sensors confirmed that that was where the signal originated from.

A quick flash of smugness passed over Soundwave, though he did not show it. Megatron had been right. Airachnid was not as unpredictable as she might have thought.

“I was expecting Dreadwing,” Airachnid continued, moving closer to the edge of the cliff, “Or at the very least, a few of the Vehicon troops. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you instead.”

That did not surprise Soundwave. Airachnid was obviously looking to kill, and he was, after all, the one who had challenged and defeated her during her short time as Commander of the _Nemesis._ Airachnid never was one to forgive the bruising of her pride.

He did not have time to relish in his past victory, though. His position left him open for attack, with little room to maneuver. If he hoped to face Airachnid here and now, he needed to get out of the trees.

And there were the Insecticons to worry about. With Airachnid scrambling his systems, he could not scan out far enough into the forest to detect any hidden attackers. He needed to move. Now.

“I’m sure you’ve considered this outcome. For all your faults, you and Megatron have always been fairly decent strategists.” Airachnid tossed the strange beacon aside, its presence no longer required now that it had served its purpose. It bounced and rolled down the back of the cliff, coming to rest in a dense patch of organic plants Soundwave did not know the name of.

“And that’s what makes this moment so very satisfying.”

Soundwave leapt back as a stream of webbing shot toward him, watching it land against the ground with an odd, sticky, thud. He looked up, calculating his chances of flying through the thick crisscross of branches that now served as a cage. The odds were in his favor, though the act of forcing his way through would slow him down considerably. There would be no room for fancy evasion tactics.

Without another moment of hesitation he transformed, blasting toward the sky as Airachnid launched herself off the ledge of the cliff. She caught herself between two thick trees, her extra limbs suspending her off the forest floor with ease, and watched as Soundwave wove his thin alt mode up and out of the trees above them. Branches were roughly ripped from their respective tree trunks with loud cracks and fell to the ground below, acting as a messy cover for Soundwave’s retreating form.

Airachnid merely smirked, watching her prey as he cleared the canopy and veered off sharply to one side. “ _Now._ ”

Soundwave heard them coming before his sensors picked them up, interference from Airachnid’s scrambler still making itself known.

Insecticons. A lot of them.

They exploded from the trees on all sides, powerful wings beating against the air with an almost deafening hum. Soundwave was forced to roll to one side to avoid colliding with one as it appeared almost directly in front of him.

If Airachnid thought she was going to defeat Soundwave with her army of bugs, she was mistaken. They were stronger, but Soundwave was faster.

He rolled to the left, dodging as an Insecticon charged straight toward him, then shot up toward the sky, aiming for the low hanging clouds. All he had to do was escape the range of Airachnid’s scrambler and send for a ground bridge.

Below him, Insecticons screeched in anger, quickly giving chance. Soundwave was forced to weave and roll as they opened fire, the heat from their blaster fire prickling over his armor. It was a vain effort on their part; he was gaining more and more distance between himself and them, he had to be getting out of range, soon…almost…

Soundwave nearly smashed head first into the second wave of Insecticons as they rained down from above the clouds, blasters already going. Banking as sharply as he could, Soundwave felt the tip of one wing scrape against the underbelly of one beast. So much for going up. Forced to bob and weave once more, Soundwave flew parallel to the ground, his optical feed scanning over the sea of green that the tree tops had become.

If he couldn’t escape them in the air, perhaps he could lose them on the ground.

So he dived, nosecone pointed straight at the ground, almost descending in a constant spiral as he attempted to dodge the heavy barrage of blaster fire that was now coming from all sides. Several times he felt his wings barely miss his attackers as he was forced to execute maneuvers that would have impressed even Starscream.

He was almost out of the swarm, almost free of the buzzing, screeching cloud of metal and blasters, when his luck ran out.

Twisting to the left to avoid a shot coming from below threw Soundwave directly into the path of a shot from above. Searing pain shot through the joint where his left wing met the rest of his body, the force of the impact causing him to spiral wildly to one side.

Pushing aside the warnings and injury reports that were now pinging him urgently, Soundwave fought to correct himself, pulling out of the steep dive seconds before crashing against the tops of the trees. Some of his attackers were not so lucky, and it was with vindictive joy that he listened to the loud crashes and screams as the Insecticons following him barreled through the thick canopy.

It was a shallow victory. Dozens of Insecticons still followed after him, some flying high above him to ensure that he could not escape into the sky. Energon was leaking from his wing, running off his armor in rivulets. Blaster fire continued to rain down around him, scorching the leaves of the trees and leaving him with next to no space to move.

Soundwave cast his gaze once more to the forest beneath him. He was smaller, thinner, and more agile than those chasing him. While the forest was by no means ideal (as he had concluded earlier), the sharp turns that would be required during flight might just grant him the advantage he needed.

With that thought in mind, Soundwave swooped down once more, disappearing beneath the leaves as swiftly as he could. Branches caught at his wings, though they became easier to avoid the farther down he went, snapping off under the sheer weight of his body. Pain and irritation swept over the thin appendages as plating was dented and scratched by the hundreds of small collisions. The pain paid off, however, when Soundwave banked hard to avoid a tree and heard the harsh crunch and echoing chorus of splintering crashes as an Insecticon flew into it. It screamed in agony as its nose horn and blaster snapped on impact, and flew out of control, ramming into one, then two, then three of its fellow troops as it went. More trees came down under the resulting impacts, the falling trunks causing an even greater blockage for more of the Insecticon forces.

While it slowed a good number, it did not stop them completely. Soundwave could see some of the swarm crashing through branches on either side of him, attempting to get ahead of him to stop his escape. Their brute strength allowed them to more easily carve a path through the forest, but Soundwave’s speed kept him ahead of their assault. He only had to go a little farther; Airachnid couldn’t possibly keep him in range of her scrambler for much longer.

Unfortunately, Airachnid seemed to have known this as well.

There was a loud crash from Soundwave’s right. An Insecticon from above had managed to swoop down ahead of him, and had rammed into the largest tree it could find, sending it collapsing directly into Soundwave’s path. It was tall, its branches were thick, and it was falling too fast for Soundwave to avoid it. With no other option present, Soundwave yanked himself up, nosecone pointed heavenward once more, and shot forward.

Straight into a freshly laid web that spanned across the branches above him.

Strong, sticky strands wound around his wings and body, holding him fast, even as his engines whined in an attempt to force his way through.

Soundwave had only a moment to transform, and consider the fact that Airachnid had _planned_ this with her army, before he was barreled into, and his world erupted in pain.

An Insecticon, heavier and stronger than he was, rammed into him from above, breaking the hold the webbing had on the trees and driving both of them back toward the ground and the other waiting Insecticons. Several of them had transformed, and as Soundwave hit the ground with an earth shaking amount of force and a loud crunch of metal, they began to grab at him with claws and teeth.

One arm had been crushed by the impact, folding in on itself in a sick imitation of a human accordion, and the other, already injured from the earlier fire fight, was shredded by the sharpened denta of an Insecticon, sending energon splattering along the ground. There was the sound of tearing metal, and a sickening pop, before white hot agony shot up Soundwave’s leg. Injury reports informed him that his left leg had been torn off at the knee.

“ _Enough._ ” Airachnid’s voice, though spoken in an even tone, was easily heard over the roars of the Insecticons. “ _Get back.”_

The roaring stopped, and suddenly Soundwave’s vision, distorted as it was by static wrung from pain and by cracks along his visor, was cleared of Insecticon bodies. Instead, he found himself watching as Airachnid nimbly and unhurriedly descended from the trees above.

“I am impressed, Soundwave. Most bots would have been screaming by this point.” She smirked as she landed, her spidery limbs folding neatly along her back. “Normally I would take this opportunity to kill you.” She moved to stand over him, one leg on either side of his broken, bleeding body. “However, I have something even better in store for you.” she fluidly bent down to one knee, taking care to dig said knee into one of the deeply etched wounds on Soundwave’s limp arms.

Pain flared again, a slightly hotter spot on the sea of flaming agony he was currently in, but Soundwave made no sound.

“Don’t worry,” Airachnid continued as though this did not bother her, “I will kill you, slowly, and painfully. And I’ll be sure the record every sound I wring from you. But all in due time. You still have some use left to me.” She smirked, digging her knee in a little harder before standing once more. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be. I will return for you.” She stepped away from him, acutely aware of his gaze following after her.

“Don’t think that you can call for Megatron as soon as I’m gone. I have my scrambler hidden close by; not that you’ll be able to find it.” She turned back to face him, smirk ever present. “Don’t go anywhere.” She winked.

Soundwave watched as she climbed up into the trees, transforming once she reached the top, and disappeared. Her army of Insecticons followed, and within minutes, Soundwave was alone.

The forest was silent; wildlife big and small had been scared away by the battle. Above him, the sun continued to filter through the broken branches, dimming the glow from the splattered energon that covered Soundwave’s body and the forest floor.

Every movement brought pain, so for the moment, Soundwave was still. Warnings, reports, and notifications pinged him constantly, but he pushed them aside with the knowledge he could do nothing to fix the problem at the current time. The only one he fully acknowledged was the report from Laserbeak.

_Stasis: Injured_

_Damage: Moderate_

_Note: Flight impossible_

Neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon. And neither of them could get a message to Megatron.

Soundwave tilted his head back once more, fighting the static that threatened to take over his vision. The scrambler had to be found. If they wanted to get out of here, they would need to disable it.

A panel clicked open, and one of Soundwave’s cables fell free from his chassis. He managed to move it several feet away from himself when the final warning appeared in his HUD.

_Energon Levels: Critically low_

_Damage: Severe_

_Shut down: Imminent._

_Shut down: Imminent._

_Shut do-_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went ahead and added "gore" to the tag list, so if that bothers you...tread lightly.  
> (it might not be as bad as I think it is, but, better safe than sorry)

The computer was beeping when Starscream returned to the _Harbinger_ ; a low, insistent sound that echoed through the control room, demanding attention. Even so, it took him a moment to register the noise, as he was busy glaring at the meager scraps of energon he had found.

“Three solar cycles of searching, and this is all I have to show for it! They know that I’m out here! They could at least leave behind more than scraps! Ungrateful soldiers, all of them!” As Commander, Starscream had felt a certain pride toward the Vehicons’ efficiency for stripping energon mines. Now, it just served to annoy him.

“I’m starving here! This is barely enough for a meal!” Irritated, Starscream shoved the few crystal shards he had gathered into the energon processor. No point in wasting time. The processor beeped once to let him know that it was working.

And then beeped again. And again. Starscream tapped at the processor, which seemed to be working fine. “What in the Pit…?”

The extra sounds finally connected in his mind.

“What is it this time?” He growled, “Another arctic jaunt for Dreadwing?”

He moved toward the monitor, kicking aside the limp legs of his dead clone as he went. One silver optic ridge rose in curiosity as he looked over the information presented to him.

“A Decepticon distress beacon? And it’s been active for quite some time…though it says here that Megatron dispatched a search party hours ago…” Starscream hit a button on the console, attempting to see the specific life signal of the troops Megatron sent. His optic ridge rose slightly higher.

“He sent Soundwave specifically. That rarely happens. This must have been important.” A silver claw tapped against the side of the console as Starscream hummed thoughtfully. “There’s no log of another ground bridge being opened, and yet Soundwave’s life signal is no longer showing at the coordinates. It’s not like Megatron to allow his trusted spy to wander alone for so long…

Of course, he could have simply flown back to the ship,” Starscream clasped his servos behind his back, “But then why would he have bridged to the coordinates in the first place? And why is the distress beacon still showing? Surely Soundwave would have handled that little problem.”

Curious, Starscream tapped a button again. Both optics ridges shot up, his mouth opening slightly, “The distress beacon has _Breakdown’s_ life signature!? But…”

_But you should see his lackey._

“Breakdown is deceased! How could he be signaling the warship?”

None of the information was making any sense. Starscream was missing something, and there was only one way to find out what it was.

“However, I don’t think Soundwave would be very happy to see me…and should Megatron send more troops to his position, they could prove to be trouble…”

Starscream looked at his clone, then at the t-cog sitting in wait on the table by the wall. “Then again, if Soundwave is in need of assistance, arriving to help could earn me a way back onto the ship for repairs.”

In the end, Starscream’s curiosity won him over. Curiosity, not mild desperation brought on by hunger, thank you very much. Grabbing the remote to the ground bridge, Starscream typed in the coordinates and stepped through the whirling vortex, exiting his shelter and arriving in the middle of a dense forest.

An eerily silent forest.

“How curious. I’ve never managed to go anywhere on this wretched planet without _something_ making noise.”

Stepping carefully, Starscream began to move through the trees, his optics constantly adjusting to the streams of light that appeared between them. Above him, the sky was beginning to darken, the vibrant streaks of red and orange being replaced by increasingly darker shades of blue.

At first everything appeared normal. There was no sound, no sign of anyone being in the forest. Soundwave may have been a master spy, but even he couldn’t be completely silent in a place like this.

“This had better not turn out to be a waste of my time!” Starscream growled, kicking an old fallen branch away from his pede. It rolled away from him, bouncing once off the ground before settling again, rustling a thick growth of plants Starscream had learned were called “ferns”.

The light caught his attention.

Something was under the ferns, pulsing with a soft yellow glow. Moving cautiously, Starscream made his way toward the light, bending down to brush the plants aside. His vents stalled for a moment as he inhaled sharply, staring down at the roughly egg-shaped device. Memories of Bumblebee lying prone while humans carved out his t-cog flashed before Starscream’s optics.

“A MECH decoy? Here?” Starscream’s wings flickered, and he snapped his head up when something shifted to his right. The silence now seemed more threatening than strange. Slowly Starscream turned his head, scanning his surroundings for any sign of movement. The forest seemed empty, but what he saw on the ground made his spark skip a beat.

Lying in the dirt, the metal alloys twinkling in the waning rays of sunlight, was a patch of webbing.

“Airachnid was here too?” Starscream stood, his sharp digits curling into claws, ready to strike if needed. He moved forward, slow and cautious, regarding the pool of web as if it were a dangerous animal waiting to pounce. Coming to a stop between the webbing and the beacon, Starscream tried to put the two objects together. He shifted slightly, putting the beacon on his right side and the webbing on his left. Before him was a steep, grassy incline that came to a ledge before dropping off in a wall of rocks, the opening to a deep cave just barely visible from the angle he was observing. Curious, he moved closer to the web, stopping when he was fulling facing the rocks; the sticky, techno-organic mess lying at his pedes. From there he could still see the glow of the beacon, though the device itself was hidden.

“This was a trap…she attempted to corner someone here…” Looking over his shoulder revealed a mess of broken branches and fallen leaves, “and apparently failed.”

A loud crack pulled a frightened shriek from Starscream’s throat, and he dove to the side seconds before a tree branch crashed to the ground. Venting hard, Starscream looked up from where he now lay sprawled on his back. A jagged path had been torn up through the trees. The newly fallen branch was one of many that had gotten stuck on their way down to the forest floor.

Quickly he pushed himself back on his feet, dusting the dirt and twigs away from the seams in his armor. “It appears this was not a waste of time after all.” Putting his back to the cave, Starscream moved forward, taking his time to listen and observe. With signs of both MECH and Airachnid’s presence in the area, he was not going to take any chances.

It didn’t take long for him to spot the sharp gouge marks in the trees, easily recognizable as wounds from Airachnid’s bladed limbs.

“She doesn’t give up easily…” Starscream followed the marks in the trees, watching as they moved higher and higher up the trunks. He looked up, following their trail, only to cringe when something wet fell against his face. Disgusted, he wiped it away quickly, pausing when he noticed the faint glow the liquid was giving off.

Energon.

He looked up again, optics searching for the source. Another drop fell onto his cheek, dripping off of a leaf high above him. Looking farther into the forest, Starscream could see more energon, on leaves, on branches, and in a few places it was lazily rolling through the rough grooves of bark. It looked as though energon had rained from the sky, sloppily painting the earth below.

Starscream continued on his way, following the trails of energon. He moved slow, attempting to keep track of every trace of the fallen life-blood. More broken branches began to accent the path, some of them splattered, smeared and glowing blue.

 _Someone was badly injured…_ As much as Starscream wanted to hope that he would find Airachnid, bleeding and in agony, he couldn’t shake the cold sense of ominous fear that was making his tanks churn. Airachnid’s alt mode would not have fit through these trees, and the pattern of energon smears could only be the result of someone moving at high speeds. As a Seeker, Starscream had seen these patterns before.

It wasn’t long before he came across a patch of land that was even more torn up than the previous stretch of forest. A thick tree had been snapped in half, Starscream could see where a collision had occurred several meters above his head. There was a thick smear of energon around the broken point in the trunk. Starscream stepped to his left to round the tree, only to jump when his pede brushed against something metal. Looking down, he saw that it was the broken remains of an Insecticon blaster.

He swallowed, the ominous feeling growing. His wings flicked and twitched, unable to sit still, and he had to stop himself from crossing his arms across his chassis.

MECH, Airachnid, and Insecticons. Being in the forest alone no longer seemed like a good idea. He moved on, almost jogging now. He wanted to find out what had happened and leave; that was it. In his haste, he almost missed the hulking shadows of three Insecticons bodies that lay off to his left. It was easy for him to conclude that the crash at the tree had proven fatal for them.

 _I can’t be far now. They lost a lot of energon, they couldn’t have gotten too far._ The forest floor flowed upwards, forming a small hill. Starscream climbed it with ease, his long legs covering ground quickly. He couldn’t remember when he had started running.

He crested the hill, jumping off the top to save himself the trouble of running down the other side, and froze where he landed. Red optics widened impossibly large, and for the second time that night his vents stalled. A chill swept through his body, and he was suddenly aware of his servos shaking.

Two meters in front of him, sprawled on his back and covered in energon, was Soundwave.

Starscream opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Soundwave was still, his left arm was torn to shreds, and his right arm was crumpled like an empty cube after Breakdown had struck it with his hammer. His left leg ended abruptly as his knee joint in a mess of torn wires and a jaggedly cut leg strut. Starscream could see the lower portion lying at the base of a tree.

“Soundwave?” Starscream could not remember the last time his voice had failed him. The single word stuck in his throat, emerging from his voice box sounding whispered and strained. He reset his voice box and tried again, with more satisfying results. “Soundwave!”

He was kneeling next to the injured mech before he even realized he was moving.

Soundwave’s visor flickered once.

For a single moment, Starscream paused. Why should he care? Soundwave was one of Megatron’s most loyal servants; dedicated to a ruler that Starscream was no longer affiliated with.

But the moment passed. As angry as Starscream was with Megatron and his ways of ruling, he was still a Decepticon. Helping Soundwave would easily earn him his place back on the _Nemesis_ , and even without that possible reward, no one deserved to be left to die like this. Not by Airachnid’s hand.

“Don’t move. If you can hear me, don’t move.” Starscream swept his gaze over Soundwave’s body, servos hovering over his chassis. Like most soldiers, Starscream had basic first aid training, but there was so much damage he didn’t even know where to begin. Soundwave’s limbs had looked bad enough, but his torso was worse. Deep, jagged slash marks stretched from the bottom left of his chest plate to the top of his right hip, and energon was still oozing from the wounds. Beneath the mech-blood, Starscream was certain that he could see exposed internal components. Laserbeak’s still attached form had spared his chest and spark chamber, but the long gouges that were covering Soundwave’s sides more than made up for the lost damage. His visor, normally clean and smooth, was a mess of cracks and chips. One touch could shatter the glass into nothingness.

“Airachnid let her mindless beasts use you as a chew toy…” Starscream recognized the signs of an Insecticon attack; his own leg gave a phantom throb at the memory of his own experience.

Soundwave’s visor flickered again, static spitting over the screen. Slowly, as if even the thought of moving brought him pain, Soundwave turned his head toward Starscream, observing.

Starscream looked into his face, “Stay still.”

More static.

“What happened?”

The static stopped. Airachnid stood on Soundwave’s screen, the video distorted from the cracks. Soundwave replayed the events on fast-forward, starting with Airachnid’s appearance and ending with her retreat. By the time the video had ended, Starscream’s servos were shaking anew, his jaw clenched tightly.

“You need a medic. Now.” Starscream attempted to send a message to the _Nemesis,_ suddenly glad that he had decided not to delete the ship’s frequency, only to have static echo back through his comm link. “Scrap! Her scrambler is still active?”

A short, silent nod.

Starscream huffed through his vents, “I can’t move you…I need to call the _Nemesis._ Going back to my base will be faster than attempting to find the range of that scrambler.” He stood up quickly, “I’ll send Megatron for you.” Starscream turned away, pulling the ground bridge remote from his subspace.

Soundwave’s cable wound weakly around his ankle.

“Soundwave,” Starscream looked back toward him, “I can’t do anything to help you. I have no supplies, no energon, and no way to move you. I have to go contact Megatron.”

Soundwave stared at him, his EM field, weak and filled with pain, pulsed with uncertainty. Did he really trust Starscream? Was he willing to put his life in his hands?

Did he have a choice?

He gave one nod, showing that he understood. A few soft clicks sounded out, and Laserbeak detached from his chest. He transformed into his flight mode, but his wings were in worse shape than Soundwave’s arm. Starscream could tell that he wouldn’t be flying anywhere anytime soon.

Soundwave continued to stare at Starscream, using his second cable to gently push Laserbeak toward the seeker.

“I have no way of repairing him either.”

Soundwave weakly shook his head, his visor beginning to fritz again. “Protect…” Starscream thought that was one of the Vehicons voices, but the static was making the voice clip hard to place.

Starscream rolled his optics, “Typical. You’re bleeding to death and all you care about is your minicon.” He leaned down and scooped Laserbeak into his arms, mindful of the minicon’s injuries. “I’ll be back as soon as I can contact Megatron.” A ground bridge opened with a loud rushing sound, and Starscream stepped through, disappearing from sight and leaving Soundwave alone once more.

A small sense of relief settled over Soundwave. No matter what happened to him now, at least Laserbeak was safe. Starscream may have been a scheming, unpredictable, and stubborn mech, but he believed in the Decepticon cause. He had to know that helping Soundwave would put him back on Megatron’s good side. Soundwave was certain that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

His vision was beginning to fade again, shut down warnings popping up once more. He didn’t try to fight them this time.

Just before darkness consumed him, Soundwave thought he could hear the sound of an approaching helicopter …

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Soundwave must be concerned about his future. He wouldn’t send you away so easily.” Starscream stroked a careful servo over Laserbeak’s back, finding himself oddly concerned with the tremors running through the small body. “Don’t over work yourself. Megatron will help him.” He stepped out of the bridge, reentering the main room of the _Harbinger._

The growling immediately froze him in his tracks.

Laserbeak squeaked in pain as Starscream suddenly hugged him to his chest. Starscream barely heard him. He was too busy staring down the Insecticon that was filling the room with its bulk. The beast snarled again, and Starscream shuddered at the heated air that washed over his face from its mouth.

“H-how…?”

A soft, deadly laugh sounded from his right, causing him to tear his gaze from the mouthful of sharp denta in front of him.

Airachnid was leaning against the console, the t-cog Starscream had been saving held delicately in her servos.

“Hello, Starscream.”

“How did you find me?”

“Oh please, like it was difficult? You are not very good with stealth. As a rogue without a t-cog, you would require stable shelter. The _Harbinger_ was the obvious choice.”

“Without a…how did you know I was without a t-cog!?” Starscream shrieked indignantly, his initial fear momentarily forgotten.

“Silas was very happy to tell me the details.”

“Silas? You’re working with Silas!? After everything he’s done to our kind!?”

“I find him easy to talk to. Like minded company, you know.”

“You foul excuse for a Cybertronian!” Starscream took a step toward her, ready to swipe the self-satisfied look off her face, only to jump back when the Insecticon growled again.

“Don’t get nasty, Starscream,” Airachnid pushed herself off of the console, setting one servo on her hip, “You worked with him too, after all.”

“A mistake that won’t be repeated, I assure you.”

“Of that, I’m sure. I would love to stay and talk, but I’m on a schedule.” Airachnid dropped the t-cog unceremoniously, not flinching at the loud crash it made when it hit the floor.

“Be careful with that!”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t be needing it.” She grinned, a slow, dangerous grin that made Starscream’s spark squeeze in fear. Airachnid’s gaze slid down to Laserbeak, still shaking in Starscream’s arms, “Since you know what happened to Soundwave, I can’t have you running off to Megatron, now can I?” She turned toward the Insecticon.

“Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and supporting this story! I really appreciate it! :)
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to discuss the story, I'm always up for talking on my Tumblr: chills-of-fire
> 
> See you all next week with the new chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a struggle for me. Not sure why...

“He’s been out of range for _how long!?”_

Three Vehicon troops hastily stepped back, their audio receptors ringing from Megatron’s roar. “We assumed he would fly back to the ship, sir, since he couldn’t get in contact with us…”

“Losing comm signal can be quite common, Lord Megatron,” A second Vehicon quickly stepped in to save his flustered friend, “Sometimes the mineral compositions on the planet can interfere with our signals.”

Megatron glowered at him, but did not continue his furious yelling, so the Vehicon quickly pressed on, “We did attempt to track his location with the earth satellites. The coordinates of the distress beacon took him near a cave. We assumed he had decided to explore it, and that’s why we couldn’t get a hold of him.”

The warlord snarled, “Show me.”

The third Vehicon hastily moved to the closest console, scrambling to bring up the images of Soundwave’s last known location, “Here.” He pointed to the screen, “There’s a cave in the rocks here. Since Silas’ beacon disappeared as well, we assumed that was where he crawled into.”

Megatron moved to the console, observing the picture silently. He could see from the shadows were the cave was set, and the edge of the cliff it was set in. Though, he also noted that it was hard to see anything through the thick twining branches above the ground. If Silas had been there, it was reasonable to conclude that he had in fact retreated into the cave. But, Megatron had sent Soundwave on this mission because of the possibility that it had not been Silas in the first place.

Soundwave was smart enough not to put himself in danger by wandering through a cave without notifying someone.

“He is _not_ in that cave.” Megatron straightened up, fists curled tightly. He turned to glare at all three of the Vehicons, and when he spoke his voice was dark. “Do not _ever_ allow one of my officers to go unaccounted for like this again; do you understand me?”

They quickly nodded, and one of them flinched slightly when Megatron moved past them. He did not spare them another glance as he walked out of the bridge and made his way to the open flight deck. A crescent moon lit up the night sky and shone off his scarred armor as he transformed and flew toward the earth.

“Lord Megatron,” Dreadwing commed him just before he reached the forest, the only sound he had heard during his flight, “The Vehicons have just informed me of the situation. Do you require any assistance?”

“I will handle this on my own, Dreadwing. Tell Knock Out to have the medical bay ready by the time I return.”

“Do you believe Soundwave to be injured?”

“Relay my command to Knock Out.” Megatron growled, and ended the call. He was in no mood to be questioned.

When he arrived at the given coordinates, he could already tell that something was wrong. The light from the moon had bleached the colors from the earth below, turning the gently swaying trees into a rolling sea of silver and gray. From his vantage point in the air, Megatron could see the deep pools of nothingness where branches were missing; black holes punched into the otherwise untouched surface.

Megatron began to make his way to Soundwave’s last known location, deciding that that would be the best place to start his search for answers.

His plans changed when he spotted the glow of spilt energon.

More branches crashed to the earth as Megatron transformed and plummeted through them, not caring about the damage he caused. He landed heavily, knees instinctively bending under him as a cushion against the impact.

For a split second he thought he was back in the gladiator pits in Kaon, observing the sight of a finished match. Energon painted the ground blue, and was splattered up the trunks of several trees, the soft glow casting strange shadows around the area. There was a particularly large spot on one tree that hinted that something had been thrown against it, but whatever the object had been, it was gone now.

A long moment passed. Megatron could not make himself move from his position, his optics still slowly roaming the area, looking for something, anything, that proved his assumption wrong. Nothing appeared.

Had the victim been Airachnid or Silas, Soundwave would have flown back to the ship immediately. His field, though held close and controlled, would have been pulsing with the vicious joy that victory always brought him. He would have shown Megatron the battle; he would have held himself a little taller, even if only for a moment.

He would have celebrated in his private, almost unnoticeable way.

If Airachnid or Silas had been attacked, there would still be a body in the clearing.

Megatron didn’t register the pain until fresh energon began to drip off his knuckles. He hadn’t even realized that he had been clenching his fists, his sharpened digits digging deeply into his palm. Warmth spread through him, harsh and unrelenting, as his spark began to hammer in his chest, the sound of energon rushing filled his audial receptors. A growl grew in his throat, growing louder and more intense until Megatron let out a deep, echoing yell of fury, his blade extending and his blaster charging as battle protocols jumped to life.

Trees rushed past his vision, though he did not remember beginning to run. He all but vaulted over the small hill that Starscream had travelled over just hours before, and continued to unknowingly retrace Starscream’s path.

Insecticon bodies to his right, broken tree to his left, more energon, streaked and smeared, rivers and drops, lit up the path. His sharp optics caught flashes of lighter patches on the blurred trees; evidence that the normally dark bark had been harmed. And there were the broken branches littering the ground, pin pointing the locations of bots either entering or exiting the forest canopy. They were crushed uncaringly, splintering under his thundering steps.

There was the cave, the rocky cliff where Soundwave had first arrived. Anger lashed through Megatron’s spark at the sight of Airachnid’s webbing gleaming in the moonlight.

Dirt flew in all directions as Megatron forced himself to stop, his pedes skidding through the earth, chest heaving as he vented harshly, vocalizer still growling lowly.

Here. It was here that she appeared. Here that she attacked him. Here is where that cowardly _disgrace_ of a Decepticon had-

The yellow light snapped him out of his inner snarling. Just off to his right, something in the ferns…

MECHs decoy beacon sat innocently among the plants, lights continuing to pulse nonthreateningly. It had served its purpose; it had helped further another’s plan, it-

Shattered into a hundred pieces under the shining silver pede that slammed on top of it once, twice, three times.

Megatron glared down at the broken remains, his arm cannon continuing to whine quietly as energy surged through it, ready for battle. Every strut and cable in his body was held taut, ready to snap, to act, to lash out and kill.

Then, all at once, Megatron relaxed. The cannon wound down, his blade retreated back into his arm, and he stood there silently, face expressionless. Muted thuds sounded against the ground as he stepped back under the pre-made exit from the forest.

 _The place Soundwave first tried to leave from._ He thought wearily, before transforming and shooting toward the sky. He did not request a bridge, he did not call ahead.

Dreadwing was waiting for him when he landed on the _Nemesis’_ flight deck.

“Did you find Soundwave, Lord Megatron?”

Megatron moved past him, his stride calculated and controlled, “Go inform Knock Out that his services will not be needed at this time. Tell him he is dismissed for the night.”

Dreadwing’s brows furrowed slightly, “Are you certain sir? Your servo…”

“Is fine. Do as you are ordered.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron.” Dreadwing followed him into the ship, a silent companion, until he was forced to leave his leader’s side to travel to the medical bay.

Megatron continued to the main bridge, silent as he walked. It was not until he had hit the button to activate the ship’s audio/visual feed that he spoke.

Before the war, Megatron had gained followers through his powerful speeches. He had been skilled at working a crowd, speaking from his heart while simultaneously saying what so many others wished to say. But here and now, as he prepared to address his troops about the newest loss, he found that he had no better way to address the situation than with blunt honesty:

“Soundwave is missing.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Murmurs and surprised gasps sounded from the Vehicons on the main bridge, the sound echoing through the room. It was a testament to Megatron’s state of mind that he did not immediately glare them into order. Instead he waited for the murmurs to die out on their own before continuing.

“I cannot say with absolute certainty that he is dead. But the fact remains that if he were capable of returning to the ship, he would have done so already. I can say that he is wounded. Badly.”

A Vehicon hesitantly rose his servo, “Lord Megatron…is this…was it Airachnid?”

“Yes.”

The bridge erupted in whispers again, most of them with a distinct edge of fear. The sound of it, the fear, the worry, annoyed Megatron more than the interruption itself. He snarled; his voice a sudden snap compared to the subdued tone he had used before.

“Enough!” Silence came instantly, “It doesn’t matter that it was Airachnid. It wouldn’t matter if it were Unicron himself! We will not fold! Not under pressure from a traitor and a human! You are Decepticons! Act like it!”

The crew shifted, though they were silent this time. All optics were on Megatron.

“Now,” Megatron continued, calming himself slightly, “Airachnid will pay for her crimes. I want a team tracking her location at all times. We are not stopping until we have her head, hers and Silas’. We will find them, we will find Soundwave, and we will end this petty battle once and for all!”

Inside the medical lab, Knock Out barked a sharp, humorless laugh before turning off the monitor.

“You think Megatron is mistaken?” Dreadwing asked, watching the medic as he went back to polishing his already pristine tools.

“I think Megatron is compensating.” Knock Out replied, “Soundwave is dead, and he knows it. He just doesn’t want the others to know.”

“You have no proof of that, Knock Out…”

Knock Out stilled, his optics shooting up to meet Dreadwing’s gaze. His tone changed, now cold and sharp, “Proof? _Proof?_ Airachnid got her hands on him! My _proof_ that he’s dead went flying off the back of this ship a week ago!”

Dreadwing flinched, a familiar wave of guilt beginning to rise in his chest, “I am sorry, Knock Out…I never intended for-”

“Stop.” Knock Out put his tools down a little too sharply, his optics returning to his servos. A slow sigh escaped him. “We’ve talked about this, Dreadwing. I don’t blame you…I’ve never blamed you…”

“Megatron advised me to take back up when dealing with her…I was the one who chose Breakdown, I was the one who took him out there.”

“You were doing your job. And so was he. I don’t blame either of you for it.” Knock Out leaned back against one of the berths, his arms crossing tightly over his chest, “I don’t even blame Airachnid…”

“You don’t?”

“I can’t. Am I angry with her? Of course. Do I hate her for what she’s done? Yes. But I don’t _blame_ her. You were taking her out there to kill her, her reaction was predictable. Just like her actions now are predictable. If she really did catch Soundwave, seeing as he hasn’t returned, he’s dead. End of story.”

Dreadwing looked him over, quiet. He was getting worried about Knock Out. Ever since Breakdown had passed he had become reckless; more willing now than ever before to throw himself into missions, and to argue with beings much larger than himself. (The arguments with Hardshell sprang to Dreadwing’s mind.) And he was angrier; his snarky comments more intended to hurt than to tease.

It had only gotten worse since Silas had escaped. The Vehicons who had lost him were still afraid to even look at Knock Out after he had let loose on them. Dreadwing was sure that the entire ship had been able to hear the medic’s outraged yells. After that night, Knock Out was more inclined to stay in his lab or in his room, only coming out to retrieve his energon rations or to deliver a report to Megatron if he was called.

Dreadwing was beginning to think he was the only one who noticed these changes. Certainly no one else had mentioned them. Knock Out was hurting; he needed to talk, to get the anger out of his system. He needed a friend. He needed Breakdown…

“You do not blame me, or Breakdown, or Airachnid…you are a stronger person than I…” Dreadwing murmured, thinking back to the anger he felt toward the Autobot scout.

“Oh, I blame someone. There is only one person I blame for this, and I-” Knock Out stopped suddenly, optics narrowing. Before Dreadwing could prompt him to continue, Knock Out quickly turned his head away, refusing to look at the larger mech. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Alright,” Dreadwing said calmly, his voice a soothing rumble, “You do not have to. But I do understand your pain, Knock Out. The loss of a loved one is a heavy burden. You do not have to bare it alone.”

Knock Out didn’t look up until after he heard the doors to the lab slide closed behind Dreadwing’s retreating form. He told himself it was because he simply didn’t care if the mech stayed or left, but in truth, he did not want to risk Dreadwing seeing the slow tears that were beginning to creep down his face.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“C’mon Bulk, you’re supposed to be pushin’ back.”

“I am, I am!”

“Push harder!”

Miko, Jack, and Raf watched as Wheeljack worked Bulkhead through another round of exercise. Bulkhead was lying on his back as Wheeljack slowly pushed at his legs, bending them at the knees and then in toward Bulkhead’s torso as much as he could. Bulkhead was supposed to push back against Wheeljack’s servos.

“Resistance exercises,” Jack had explained to Miko and Raf.

Ratchet continued to supervise, but he was slowly allowing Wheeljack to handle Bulkhead’s exercises on his own. He was at least being civil with Wheeljack, though it was clear to everyone that he was still angry over the revenge stunt he had pulled with Miko.

“Alright, ease up now.” Wheeljack slowly lowered Bulkhead’s leg down, “Feel alright?”

“I’m fine, Jackie. Jeeze between you and Ratchet, I’m starting to wonder if you all think I’m going to fall apart!”

“Nah, I just don’t need the doc threatenin’ me with a wrench for overworkin’ you.”

Bulkhead pushed himself into a sitting position, absentmindedly rubbing at his legs, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” Wheeljack grinned and clapped Bulkhead on the back, “You’ll be back out in the field before you know it.”

Bulkhead grinned back, “Next time I’ll show Silas what a Wrecker is capable of!”

“He’s gonna regret ever messin’ with ya, Bulk!” Miko exclaimed excitedly.

“Bulkhead isn’t going anywhere until he has properly healed.” Ratchet’s voice came from the hall, “You heard Optimus’ orders.” He walked into the main area of the base, his servos set on his hips in a no nonsense manner. Optimus followed behind him, his calm demeanor easily balancing Ratchet’s disapproving expression.

“Where’ve you two been?” Wheeljack asked, leaning his arm against Bulkhead’s shoulder.

“Patrolling the inner halls of the base,” Optimus said, “to ensure that they are structurally secure.”

“You worried MECH or Airachnid might try to bust through a back door?”

“While our base seems to have remained hidden, I do not intend on taking any chances. They have both proved unpredictable in the past, and we cannot afford to be careless.”

“Are you having any luck tracking them down?” Raf asked, leaning forward against the railing of the catwalk.

“No.” Ratchet huffed, “They’ve managed to shield their locations. Our scanners aren’t picking them up.”

“I hope Arcee and the others are having more luck then,” Jack said, “It’d be great if we could find them quickly.”

“I agree, Jack.” Optimus moved toward the main computer console, “The sooner they are taken care of, the better.”

Wheeljack and Bulkhead exchanged a look before glancing at Ratchet, who dropped his servos from his hips and regarded Optimus with a guarded expression, “How do you plan on “taking care of them”, Optimus?”

All at once the room seemed to fill with tension. Wheeljack held very still where he leaned against Bulkhead, and the larger Wrecker seemed to be holding his breath. Ratchet continued to watch Optimus, whose body had gone stiff, his EM field suddenly withdrawing so it could not be read. Jack, Miko, and Raf exchanged glancing, sensing the apprehension.

Optimus looked over his shoulder at Ratchet, meeting his gaze for only a moment before averting his optics. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was forgotten when the sound of roaring engines began to drift in from the base’s entrance tunnel.

Smokescreen honked his horn several times as he sped into the base, closely followed by Arcee and Bumblebee. All three of them transformed quickly once they were out of the tunnel.

“Nothing to report.” Smokescreen stretched his arms out, delivering his report as if it were any other average day, “Super quiet out there.”

“For now.” Arcee grumbled behind him, her irritated, tense field clashing with Smokescreen’s aloof, bored posture. Bumblebee gave a wordless _whirr_ behind her, his door wings low and tense.

“C’mon Arcee, you gotta relax. Er…” Smokescreen cast a quick glance at Optimus, “Not that I think this is a joke…I just think that, um…worrying yourself over it isn’t gonna help, ya know?”

Arcee looked up at him sharply for a moment before sighing. He was still so green…

“I’ve seen a lot of things in this war. And I’ve tangled with both of them personally, Smokescreen. That’s why I’m ‘worrying myself’. I sincerely hope that you get to keep your more _positive_ outlook on this situation.”

Smokescreen’s field flashed with a dim edge of hurt, his mouth opening to respond. He was interrupted by the soft, repeating chime that signaled an incoming message.

“Who could that be?” Arcee asked, watching as Ratchet moved to look at the message, “We’re all here already.”

“I have a guess.” Bulkhead craned his head back to look at Ratchet, “Let me guess, ‘I have information, bring medical kit’?”

Ratchet snorted through his vents with a sound that might have been mistaken for amusement and pushed the button to stop the chime. All at once he stiffened, his field coloring with concern.

“Everything okay Doc?” Wheeljack straightened up.

“Who is it, Ratchet?” Optimus turned fully away from the monitor, watching Ratchet carefully.

“It’s Starscream, again,” Ratchet said quietly, “But something is very wrong…”

“He probably just busted his leg again.” Bulkhead waved his hand dismissively, “He’ll be fine.”

“No.” Ratchet beckoned Optimus over, “Look at this. Aside from the coordinates, I can hardly read the message he sent.”

Optimus moved to stand beside him, leaning over his shoulder to read the delivered message. The words were hard to read, the glyphs running over each other or missing altogether, causing half the message to be indiscernible. It was the kind of message one would compose while struggling to stay conscious.

It was obvious that Ratchet had reached the same conclusion. “I’ll get my tools.” He hurried to his work area, grabbing whatever he thought he would need. Optimus turned quickly to the ground bridge controls, inputting the given coordinates and opening a bridge.

“Arcee, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, you stay here with Bulkhead and the children. Wheeljack, you will accompany Ratchet and myself.”

“On it, chief.” Wheeljack patted Bulkhead’s shoulder before walking over to stand beside Optimus. Ratchet joined them soon after, medical kit in hand.

Optimus looked at the others, his tone stern, “Remain here until we return.” And with that, he turned and led the way through the ground bridge, disappearing with Ratchet and Wheeljack hot on his heels.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

He’d always heard that your life was supposed to flash before your eyes when you died.

Unless his life had consisted of nothing more than flashes of color and sound and feeling, Starscream was going to assume he had been lied to.

 _“Starscream-”_ His name, echoed by a thousand voices, in a thousand tones.

_“Move aside!”_

_“Nice shot!”_ Pride.

 _“-worthless soldier-”_ Anger.

 _“Hey ‘Screamy!”_ Flashes of purple and blue armor and a tangle of wings, loud laughter, a safe, warm feeling.

_“Do we have a deal?”_

Purple optics. _“Kill him.”_

 _“- hit rock bottom.”_ So much blaster fire…

_“-can’t believe-”_

_“-thought you were my friend! I trusted-”_ Accusation…was that guilt?

 _“Protect…”_ Wait…

Silver fangs. _“Kill him.”_

 _“Protect…”_ Who…

Spider legs. _“Silas was more than happy-”_

 _“Heir Commandant…”_ Red paint, annoyed admiration…that’s what it felt like to smile naturally…

_“-won’t be needing it.”_

A yellow beacon flashing, somehow it seemed important. He could almost grab it, it was so close…but he was so tired…

_“Kill him.”_

_“Protect…”_ Protect what?

Something was squeaking, squealing, it was so far away…

 _Wait…_ No, it was right in his audio receiver…

“ _Protect…”_

The beacon flashed again, brighter this time. And Primus that infernal _squealing!_

“ _Protect…”_

_Protect what!?_

Energon. Too much energon, rivers and pools and energon falling from the sky and-

_Soundwave!_

_“Protect…”_

_Laserbeak!_

Starscream tried to shift his arm toward the source of the squealing.

The roar, the mouthful of teeth, the pain…

_Oh Primus the pain!_

A scream tore itself from his voice box as the pain suddenly made itself known; every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. The sound echoed through the dark…place...that he was in…wherever he was. He thought he could remember a ground bridge…there was something green in front of him anyway…

“Get Laserbeak out of the way! I can’t help him if I can’t get close to him!”

That didn’t sound like Knock Out at all…

“ _No!_ For Primus’ sake Wheeljack don’t grab his wings! He’s just as injured as Starscream!”

_Wheeljack? He’s an Autobot…_

_Autobots…not Knock Out…Laserbeak…_

The memories of the past few cycles hit him like a truck.

Soundwave, Airachnid, the Insecticon, the ground bridge, desperately trying to contact the Autobots before he went offline…

There was the light again, not a beacon…a flashlight.

“Starscream, can you hear me?” Ratchet’s face, blurred and distorted, filled his vision. The numbness was taking over…wasn’t he in pain just a second ago? Starscream tried to respond, but his entire face felt… _wrong,_ and he was unable to speak. He blinked instead, trying to clear his vision.

“The bird’s freakin’ out Doc!”

“Ratchet, what do you need?” Optimus Prime appeared on Starscream’s other side, just as blurry, but easily recognizable.

“I need him back at the lab. Now. I don’t have what I need here to save him.” Ratchet was looking up at Optimus now, “We don’t have time to debate, we’re losing him.”

“There is no debate to be had.”

Suddenly Starscream was being lifted, though he didn’t remember seeing Prime bend down to his level, and the green swirl he had seen earlier was coming closer.

_I was right, it was a bridge…_

And the blackness at the edge of his vision was getting thicker, creeping over his optics and blocking his sight.

Starscream lost consciousness before they even reentered the base.

“I need him on a berth!” Ratchet yelled over his shoulder as he ran ahead, racing to his lab to get his machines ready. He nearly trampled Smokescreen in the process, ignoring the way the rookie jumped out of the way with a startled yelp.

“What’s happening!?” Arcee stepped back, optics wide as Optimus rushed in behind Ratchet, Starscream in his arms.

Or at least…Arcee thought it was Starscream.

His left arm was missing, torn out at the shoulder, and his right leg ended at the knee. His wings, or what was left of them, were shredded, wires spilling out of the jagged wounds. The red crest on his helm was half its normal size, and the metal was warped, like it had been twisted, not cut.

And those were just his limbs.

The normally polished silver chassis was torn to ribbons, energon painting every surface of his armor and dripping off his limp form on to the floor. His chest was ripped apart, the plating peeled back and curled into sharp edges that were a grisly mimicry of Megatron’s own edged armor. Through the gaps they could see the light of Starscream’s spark beginning to waver.

Arcee looked away from his chest, then promptly turned her back on the scene entirely, a servo pressed over her mouth. Battle hardened warrior that she was, after everything she had seen and experienced, nothing had prepared her for the sight of Optimus holding Starscream’s vital internals in his servo, wires and energon lines spilling between his digits as he attempted to hold them in their proper place.

Then there was his face, the bit of it that remained. Starscream’s bottom jaw had been completely removed. The marks on the remainder of his cheeks suggested that it had been _bitten_ off.

Smokescreen and Bumblebee exchanged a look, both of their optics wide and startled. They could hear Ratchet ordering Optimus to lay Starscream down. Smokescreen nearly purged when he heard him tell Optimus to “set his tank on the berth”. Bumblebee hurriedly (though carefully) snatched the children off the raised walkway and left the room, ignoring Miko’s protests. They didn’t need to see this.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack stood side by side, their faces dark as they silently watched the grim scene.

They all stayed out of the way; there was nothing they could do to help.

Optimus retreated from the lab as soon as he was sure that he could offer no more assistance. Cybertronian medics were trained to handle situations on their own, and the Autobot’s own medical bay was limited on space. With his limited medical knowledge and larger frame, Optimus would only be underfoot. Ratchet would shout if he needed them.

“Why do you have Laserbeak?” Bulkhead forced himself to look away from Starscream’s mangled body, instead looking down at Wheeljack and the trembling drone he held in his arms.

“Starscream was holdin’ him.” Wheeljack didn’t avert his optics from the scene, only moving to offer Laserbeak to Optimus when the larger mech wordlessly reached for him.

Laserbeak let out a loud squeal, attempting to bat the larger servos away with his wings.

Optimus shushed him gently, very carefully taking him from Wheeljack, “Laserbeak, we do not intend to hurt you. Please be still, you will only worsen your injuries.” He stroked a tender digit down the middle of the minicon’s back until he stopped squealing and flapping at him. “Ratchet will patch you up once he has finished with Starscream.”

He moved to the main computer console, gently lying Laserbeak on the platform that the children usually stood on.

“Why would Starscream have Laserbeak?” Arcee asked, her voice rough as she tried to keep it steady.

“What would reduce Starscream to _that_?” Wheeljack jerked his thumb toward Starscream’s prone form.

Optimus’ jaw clenched ever so slightly, his optics narrowing marginally.

“You have an idea, don’t you?” Bulkhead took a step toward his leader.

“I need some help over here!” Ratchet yelled, “Someone get me more energon!”

“I’ll handle it.” Wheeljack stopped Optimus from stepping forward, “You have an idea brewing, I can tell. Go do what you gotta do.” He disappeared, racing down the hall at a dead sprint.

Optimus took a deep breath, “Bulkhead,”

“I know, I know. Stay here.” Bulkhead looked back toward Ratchet and Starscream, “I’ll do what I can here.”

“Thank you,” Optimus turned toward Arcee and Smokescreen, “I want you two to return to Starscream’s coordinates. See if you can…” He hesitated for a brief second, “See if you can find the rest of him.”

Smokescreen gave a very small nod, his optics still locked on the scene in the medical bay.

“What about you?” Arcee asked as she reopened the ground bridge.

“There is someone I need to meet with.” Was all Optimus would say. He waited until Arcee and Smokescreen vanished into the bridge, then opened a bridge at new coordinates. With one last nod to Bulkhead, he stepped through, blinking at the sudden assault of sand in his optics.

The desert was as good a place as any to ask for a meeting.

Taking another deep breath, Optimus touched his comm link, activating a frequency that he had never imagined he would be using again.

_“Why would Starscream have Laserbeak?”_

_“What would reduce Starscream to that?”_

Optimus had a grave suspicion.

There was no verbal answer, but he heard the distinctive sound of the call being answered.

“Megatron, we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have at least two more stories planned for this series, and I'm going to need to bring in some more characters in the second story. Do you guys have any characters you'd like to see? 
> 
> I'll keep track of any requests I get to help me decide!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments! I appreciate every single one of them!

“We need to talk.” The last voice Megatron expected to hear sounded strongly through his comm link, firm, cool, and clearly not wanting to play games.

“Optimus, such a surprise to hear your voice.” Megatron waved off Dreadwing’s sudden appearance by his side, ignoring the shock written over the golden faceplate. It was the first expression he had gotten from his second in commander since his return from the medical bay. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need to speak with you, face to face. I would not be calling if it were not important.”

“And what matter would be so important that you would need to convene with me?”

He listened to the brief silence as Optimus paused, then, “Have you heard from Soundwave recently?”

Megatron stiffened, “Why do you ask?”

Optimus recognized that angry, defensive edge in his voice. That was one question answered…

“I am currently in possession of a grievously injured Laserbeak.”

Megatron’s optics widened slightly, “He lives?”

“He does.”

“Airachnid?”

“That is my assumption at the moment, yes.”

“Send me your coordinates.”

Optimus did not answer verbally. Within seconds Megatron received the small data packet containing the information.

“Lord Megatron! You should not face the Prime by yourself!” Dreadwing made to follow after him as he quickly turned to enter the coordinates.

“That is exactly what I will be doing, Dreadwing.” Megatron’s voice was a low growl, daring him to argue, “You are to remain here and await further instructions, is that clear?”

Dreadwing did not want to agree. Megatron could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way he tensed his shoulders, the way he was forcing himself to nod, his neck struts so against the motion that Megatron was almost sure he could hear them whining in protest.

“Understood.”

Megatron punched in the coordinates and opened a ground bridge, walking through without a second glance to his second in command.

A small gust of wind welcomed him to the desert with a healthy dose of sand in the optics. He hissed in annoyance, quickly shuttering his optics to flush the irritant out.

“Why in the Pit did you choose a desert?”

“Because it is far from human dwellings.” Optimus answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The wind died down and Megatron cleared his optics, looking forward to meet Optimus’ gaze, red burning into blue.

“You lost Silas.” Optimus was not asking, though his voice was not accusing.

“You lost Airachnid.” Megatron replied simply.

Optimus dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the fact, “Unforeseeable events allowed her to escape.”

“How were you holding her?”

“Arcee trapped her in a stasis pod that had previously been home to an Insecticon.”

Megatron gave a small snort through his vents, “How fitting.”

For a moment the pair simply watched each other, both of them wary. It had been a long time since they had met together like this, with the intention of talking, unaware of what could result. The events surrounding Unicron’s awakening had been shrouded with continued distrust and apprehension, each of them knowing what would happen when the battle was over. This…this was new. This was different. Soundwave was missing and the danger, their new enemy, was everywhere. All bets were off.

“Where did you find Laserbeak?”

“He was with Starscream.”

“Starscream?” Megatron did not bother hiding his surprise, what reason was there to? “Starscream had him?”

“Yes. He was injured worse than Laserbeak.”

“Could you tell how?”

“Based on the injuries, and the extent of said injuries, my current assumption is that Starscream was attacked by an Insecticon.”

Something flashed across Megatron’s EM field, a sensation that Optimus found both familiar and alien at the same time. It was gone before he could determine what it was, Megatron drawing his field in tight against his frame, unreadable. “That was my assumption about Soundwave’s disappearance as well.”

“Disappearance?” Optimus’ optic ridges furrowed slightly, Megatron recognized the look of concentration. “You mean he is still missing?”

“For several cycles now. When I attempted to look for him, I found a large amount of spilt energon, Airachnid’s webbing, and several dead Insecticons.”

“You did not find Soundwave, yet Starscream had Laserbeak in his possession.” Optimus frowned, “Starscream must have found him first, before he disappeared,”

“And was then attacked by an Insecticon as well.” Megatron finished.

“Why would Airachnid attack them both? Why would she take Soundwave and leave Starscream?”

Megatron paused, thinking deeply. This didn’t make sense. Why take one? Why take _any_? Airachnid didn’t move her victims. She left them to be found. There was no reason for her to take Soundwave. She would have left him as a message, as an unspoken insult to Megatron.

 _Airachnid might not have been the only attacker._ The crushed remains of that glowing device flashed through Megatron’s mind.

“Airachnid did not take him.” He said slowly.

Optimus was quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Signs of Airachnid’s presence were not the only things I found.” Megatron tapped his digit against his thigh, “There was something human, something that had been left behind. A beacon, I believe.” He growled, “I knew it was a trap…”

Optimus raised an optic ridge slightly when Megatron looked at him, clearly expecting him to explain. The warlord let out an aggravated sigh.

“When Silas disappeared, and the Insecticons deserted, I made it a priority to track both Silas and Airachnid down, to destroy them before they could become a bigger annoyance. This morning, Silas’ signal reappeared. I sent Soundwave to survey the area, believing that Airachnid was up to her old tricks. It appears that I was correct. However, Airachnid usually leaves her victims, to taunt or frighten others. The last Decepticon she got a hold of was Breakdown,”

“Who later reappeared with Silas inside his body.” Optimus finished gravely, understanding Megatron’s train of thought. “Now that Soundwave has disappeared, you believe that Silas has taken him as well.”

“I would sooner believe that than believe Airachnid has suddenly decided to clean up her messes.” Megatron growled, “I do find it hard to picture her working with a human, however.”

“It would not be the first time she has sided with MECH.” Optimus folded his arms over his chest, his digits tapping against his arm thoughtfully. “Bumblebee and Bulkhead spoke of a device that gave a false signal many months ago. It too was used to lure in unsuspecting victims.”

“Silas gives Airachnid a beacon designed to mimic a distress signal in order to lure us out, so that Airachnid can attack the unknowing target, and leave them for Silas to pick up later. Why?”

Optimus closed his optics, inhaling slowly to keep himself calm.

_MECH has clearly achieved the perfect meld of man and machine._

“I fear I know the answer to that question…”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The patch of forest was dark, unnervingly silent, and utterly destroyed. Everywhere Arcee looked, she saw energon sprayed over trees, old logs, the ground, and other plant life. The ground was ripped up; long furrows raked through the dirt, obviously made from claws. Something big had happened here, something that had pulled smaller trees (she vaguely remembered Jack calling them ‘saplings’) out at the roots, and smashed several sizeable rocks into pebbles. Larger trees were broken, the trunks snapped in half under hard impacts.

Arcee found Starscream’s arm at the base of a broken tree, the bark scratched and peeled away, as if he had been desperately attempting to climb it in an attempt to find safety. Smokescreen found his jaw in the broken remains of a rotten log, next to a small concave impact in the dirt that was filled with ripped wires and pieces of shredded armor. The twisted remains of his helm crest had been dropped in a patch of trampled ferns.

“Starscream got in one Pit of a lucky shot.” Arcee said aloud, standing before the body of a dead Insecticon. The hulking body was splayed in the dirt, its head missing. Scorch marks around the base of its shoulders suggested that one of Starscream’s missiles was responsible for that.

She received no answer, she hadn’t received any kind of response since she and Smokescreen had arrived at their destination. It was beginning to worry her.

Smokescreen was continuing the search for Starscream’s leg, his white paint glowing an eerie color as it reflected light from both the moon and the spilt energon. His door wings were held low and far too tense along his back.

“Smokescreen?”

Silence. He acted like he didn’t even hear her, continuing to brush aside debris to find the missing leg.

_You’ve seen bad things before, you’ve seen what happens in a war._

Smokescreen couldn’t make his servos stop shaking. Every time he thought he had them under control, his thoughts circled back to Starscream in Optimus’ arms, his mangled chest, internals spilling out, his face…

_You’ve seen bad things before…you’ve seen bad things before…_

_But nothing like that. Not in person._

Everything he had seen, all the violence and fighting, had been from monitors and news feeds, first at the Elite Guard training facility, and then in the Hall of Records. He had watched and listened, but he had never seen…never seen…

 _Primus, I could see his spark…I saw his tank…Airachnid…how could she…how could_ anyone _do that to somebody?_

The feeling of something brushing against his back nearly made him jump out of his plating. A choked scream escaped him as he whirled around, blasters at the ready, spark frantically pulsing in his chest.

“Easy,” Arcee put her hands up, palms forward, “It’s just me, Smokescreen.”

“Oh...right…sorry,” Smokescreen retracted his blasters, lowering his arms.

“You’ve been pretty quiet.” Arcee crossed her arms loosely over her chest, watching him carefully, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No...I...I’m fine.” Smokescreen turned away again, optics aimed at the ground, “Just…focused on finding Starscream’s leg.”

“Smokescreen, I found it already.” Arcee said gently, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five kliks.”

“Oh…well, good then.” He returned his attention to the small femme, a forced smile attempting to spread across his face plates. “Then we should get back to base.”

Arcee nodded once, deciding that pushing the newest recruit was probably not the best idea at the moment. She turned and walked toward the small pile they had made of Starscream’s limbs, bending down to pick up the arm and lower jaw. Her tanks rolled slightly when she picked up the latter. Arms and legs, limbs that were (unfortunately) common to lose, no longer bothered her. This…this was something else.

She didn’t comment when Smokescreen stayed in place; she wasn’t exactly excited about returning to the mess they had left behind either. No, she tucked the dismembered limb securely under her own arm and turned to face him.

“It helps if you try not to picture it.”

Smokescreen’s optics, which had begun to get that far away look again, focused on her again. That terrible smile from earlier was gone. He looked down at his pedes, scuffing the tip of one against the ground. His field was suddenly flooded with embarrassment and…shame? “How do you not? How are you able to handle that?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice…” Arcee tried not to think about the number of bodies she had seen, “I’ve learned how to shut it out.”

“How?” Smokescreen lifted his optics to hers once more, and for the first time, Arcee saw absolutely no confidence in his gaze, only a lost, fearful expression, “I never had to learn…I never got the chance to learn…I…” He shifted, the joints of his door wings creaking slightly as they attempted to press the panels even closer to his back, “I’d never seen something like that before…”

“I wish I could say the same...” Arcee adjusted her grip on Starscream’s jaw, noticing the way Smokescreen’s optics flickered to it. She stood a little straighter, attempting to give Smokescreen a solid presence. “The important thing right now is that we do our job. We have to get these pieces back to Ratchet, so that he can finish fixing Starscream, okay?”

Smokescreen gave a small nod before taking a deep breath to steady himself. He moved forward, picking up the leg and helm crest, hardly hearing Arcee call for a bridge. It opened in front of them, and he moved forward almost mechanically to follow Arcee through it.

“Hey, Arcee?” He paused, shifting uncomfortably, “About earlier, what I said…if this is what Airachnid is capable of…I understand…”

Arcee shot him a small smile over her shoulder, “Apology accepted, Smokescreen.”

She didn’t have the heart to correct him.

This is what an Insecticon was capable of.

Airachnid was so much worse…

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“You promised to deliver me bots I could use. _He_ is hardly a durable soldier.” Silas frowned down at the unconscious Soundwave, watching as his men hurried to connect him to their large computers. Irritation swept over him. They were following _Airachnid’s_ orders, not his.

“I was honestly expecting Dreadwing.” Airachnid said smoothly, perched on a stack of boxed energon. “Believe me, Soundwave is a much bigger prize.”

“How so?”

“Really Silas, did you learn nothing from your stay with Megatron?” She tilted her head, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “You really should learn to pay better attention.”

Silas bristled, fighting to keep his voice even, “Megatron and I had better things to discuss than the jobs of his crew. He was extremely task oriented.”

“Probably in a hurry to get you off his ship.” Airachnid smiled in response to the glare she received before continuing, “Soundwave is hardly the fragile clerk you seem to think he is. He was a gladiator before the Great War. But that is beside the point.” Airachnid pushed herself off of her seat, landing smoothly on the floor. Several of her Insecticons raised their heads as she moved, watching her for orders. “Soundwave’s value does not come from his skills in battle, it comes from his mind.”

“Do explain.”

“Before Megatron saw fit to terminate me, I was privy to information about a large amount of data that he had acquired during our war.” Airachnid moved to stand next to Silas, her servos resting lightly on her hips, watching the humans work around Soundwave, “A large database from the Iacon Hall of Records. Though it was written in Autobot code, we managed to decode some of the entries. They were coordinates, on this planet, that gave the location of several very powerful weapons and relics. Weapons and relics that could provide a powerful advantage during our battle now.”

“And?”

Airachnid rolled her optics, a heavy sigh escaping her, “ _And,_ truly, Silas, I thought you were quicker than this, Soundwave is Megatron’s Intelligence Officer. All the information about the database, and any progress that has been made since I’ve been gone, will be with Soundwave. He stores massive amounts of information on his drives.”

Silas watched as his men finished hooking up the prone mech to the computers, “Do you think some of those weapons may still be out there? You’ve been off the ship for quite some time, what if there’s nothing left to find?”

“I highly doubt that even Soundwave could have decoded the entire database in that time. And even if he has, at the very least we will know what weapons we are up against. Luck favors the prepared, after all.”

“Do you think he downloaded the entire database?”

“Soundwave was always unable to quit working, once given a task. Even if Megatron had ordered him to retire for the night, Soundwave would have taken some of the database with him to work on. He will have something useful for us, I’m sure.”

Silas said nothing, silently watching as his men began the process of hacking into Soundwave’s drives. He had to agree with Airachnid’s analysis, information was always good to have, but he still wanted his army, and the broken, comatose bot in front of him was far from battle ready.

“Contain your impatience.” Airachnid purred next to him, “It’s ruining my fun.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” She pulled her gaze away from Soundwave’s form, looking up into hard yellow optics, “It’s your electromagnetic field. It projects your emotions as easily as a smile. You have no control over it at the moment, making you quite easy to read.”

Silas shifted, unaccustomed to being so easily figured out. He didn’t like it. Airachnid laughed.

“Discomfort, how nice.”

“Enough!” He growled, “How do I control this?”

“Practice.” Airachnid smiled, cold and amused, “I can teach you. It could prove to be useful.”

Before Silas could ask how, a voice called for his attention.

“Sir, we have small problem.”

“What is it?” Silas turned his attention back to the men by the computers.

“His drives, sir, they’re protected.”

“Protected how?” Airachnid cut in before Silas could ask.

“I’m not sure. He must have encrypted them. We can’t get into them at all. I’ve never seen code like this, and from what I can see, the information almost appears to be…missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes sir.”

Airachnid moved forward, walking fluidly over Soundwave’s body to peer at the screens. After a moment, she gave a low laugh, “Oh how clever.” She turned to look at Silas, “He’s programmed his own drives, to protect them from an attack like the one we’re attempting now. They can’t be accessed as long as he’s offline. He must have been paranoid about someone attempting to hack him in his sleep.”

“Can you break the encryptions?”

“No sir.”

“Unfortunately, Soundwave is one of the best when it comes to skills like this.” Airachnid stepped next to Soundwave, nudging his head with the tip of her pede, “We won’t be getting anything out of him like this.”

Silas took a slow breath in through his vents, attempting to ignore the still strange sensation of taking in air from different places on his body. “In that case,” he turned, moving to the stacks of stored energon. He picked up a cube in one of his large silver servos, “We’ll just have to wake him up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot more fun writing Airachnid than I thought I would


	6. Chapter 6

“I want to see him.”

Optimus blinked once, slightly startled. He had told Megatron everything he knew about Silas and his group; from meeting him during the transfer of Agent Fowler’s nuclear machine, to the failed doppelganger built to resemble Optimus himself, and everything in between. Optimus had finished with his conclusion that Silas was in all likelihood planning on using Soundwave as he had used Breakdown, adding that he believed Starscream was most likely deemed unusable due to his lack of t-cog.

Megatron had begun to pace again during the recounting of Bumblebee losing his t-cog, his jaw clenched tight and a low growl rumbling in his chest. He had come to a stop during Optimus’ conclusion, and was now watching the Prime for a reaction to his demand, his optics burning angrily.

“You want to see Starscream?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason? He is a Decepticon. One of my soldiers. I have a right to see him. Unless,” Megatron sneered challengingly, “you plan on declaring him your prisoner.”

“Of course not.” Optimus said calmly, refusing to rise to the bait, “I am simply confused as to why you wish to see the mech you left on his own.”

“Starscream could have returned to the ship once he was free from you. He chose to go off on his own.”

Optimus gave a small hum in response, his mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line

Megatron huffed, “I gave the order to track him down just before we were alerted to Silas’ signal. I did not want this to happen, I wanted to find him before they did. Seeing how I failed to do that, I would like to make sure he is receiving the best care after his attack.”

Optimus was silent for a moment, contemplating. “I want to know where we stand before I allow you to enter our base.”

One silver optic ridge quirked slightly.

“We are both in danger of attack at the moment. Silas and Airachnid have already badly injured two of your soldiers, and are unable to be located at present. Is it really in our best interest to continuing fighting each other when there are worse dangers at hand?”

“You are proposing another truce.”

“I am. I believe that while Silas and Airachnid continue to roam free, it would be in our best interest to work together. If we continue to fight each other, we leave ourselves vulnerable to further attacks from them.”

“And how long do you think this one will last?”

Optimus met his optics, his gaze steady, “I cannot say. Perhaps it will only last until the threat has been removed, as our truce when dealing with Unicron did. Maybe it will only last the week. Ideally, this would be the truce to end our war.”

Megatron snorted, “Do you honestly believe that to be possible?”

“Call it wishful thinking.” Optimus said with calm honesty, “Is there any reason to believe otherwise? Airachnid roaming free across the galaxies, across this planet, Silas’ interest in our technology, it has all stemmed from our actions. Maybe fighting against the evil we have created will help end our war.”

Megatron opened his mouth slightly, clearly intending to tear down this ridiculous hope before it could grow any further, but Optimus wasn’t finished.

“Would it not be better to end the war peacefully, Megatron? If we continue on the same path, we will destroy our species before the war ever reaches its conclusion. We have the opportunity, right here and now, to call an end to it, before we all perish, before all hope of saving Cybertron is destroyed.”

That struck a chord; Megatron closed his mouth, considering the offer. “A new truce between Autobots and Decepticons. You want a _permanent_ truce. How do you expect that to work?”

“We will have to discuss it, of course.” Optimus moved closer to Megatron, cautious, but optimistic, “There are many details that we will need to go over.”

Megatron nodded slowly, watching Optimus’ face. “Alright, Optimus. A truce, for now. We will focus on stopping Airachnid and Silas, and see where we stand after.”

“A fair start.” Optimus extended his servo. Megatron grasped it firmly, and they each gave a small nod.

“May I see Starscream now?”

“Of course.” Optimus activated his commlink. “Bulkhead, prepare a bridge. I will be bringing a visitor back with me. Please ensure that the children are not around.”

The bridge opened within moments, and Megatron took a step toward it. The feeling of Optimus squeezing his servo made him pause. Megatron looked back at the Prime, and was immediately taken aback at the fierce yet guarded hope in Optimus’ optics.

“Do not step through that bridge if you are not sincere.”

Megatron held Optimus’ gaze. “I meant what I said.”

There was a flicker of doubt, a small flash of mistrust in Optimus’ face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Optimus searched Megatron’s face, his field extending slowly in an attempt to read Megatron’s. A rush of open honesty washed over him as Megatron allowed their fields to brush together.

Optimus gave a small nod and withdrew his servo. Megatron left his own hovering in the air for a single second before lowering it back to his side, his palm warm where it had pressed against Optimus’.

“After you.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Optimus is coming through, Ratch.”

Ratchet made a small grunt in acknowledgement, not pausing in his work. His welding torch had been burning ever sense Optimus had left, and he was still not finished tending to Starscream’s wounds. By the look of it, the limbs that Arcee and Smokescreen had retrieved would not be getting reattached until sometime tomorrow.

He didn’t react with the bridge opened open. Didn’t look up at the sound of Optimus’ heavy footsteps. Hardly paid any attention to the second set of equally heavy footsteps that came in with him. He didn’t look up, didn’t flinch, didn’t bother with even a greeting, until Wheeljack yelled out over the sounds of blasters charging.

“What the fraggin’ Pit is _he_ doin’ here!?”

Ratchet’s head shot up, the flame of his torch going out instinctively so as not to hurt Starscream.

Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Arcee stood at the ready, blasters primed and swords raised, and Ratchet’s spark skipped a beat when he saw why.

Megatron, his face grim, stood behind Optimus, who was standing slightly in front of the larger warlord, between him and the armed weapons.

Ratchet was suddenly very grateful that Bumblebee and Smokescreen had left to take the children back to Agent Fowler at the military base.

“Allow me to explain, please.” Optimus spoke calmly, one servo raised with his palm facing his team, “He is not a threat.”

Wheeljack snorted, “Right, he’s just here to share a cube.”

“He is here to see Starscream.”

“Optimus Prime,” Ratchet turned to fully face the arriving mechs, standing in front of his patient defensively, “You had better have a good explanation for this.”

Optimus nodded once. He turned to Megatron before pointing to a sturdy metal crate by the monitors. “Have a seat while we discuss this.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge slightly, but did not argue. He lumbered over to the crate, optics roaming over the Autobots who had drawn on him, before sitting down, resting his servos on his thighs where the others could see them.

“Somebody tell us what’s going on.” Arcee never took her optics off Megatron.

“Optimus and I have-”

“ _Not_ you.” Ratchet snapped, cutting the warlord off, his optics still on Optimus, clearly displeased.

Megatron fell silent, his optics narrowing slightly. He looked to Optimus, catching his optic before gesturing a servo toward the Autobots. _Go on then._

Optimus nodded drawing himself up to his full height before addressing the others, “Megatron and I have agreed to a truce.”

“Because that worked out so well last time.” Bulkhead scoffed, “What does he want you to empty the matrix into now?”

“This is not like before, Bulkhead.” Optimus replied, “This planet is not safe at the present time, for any Cybertronian. We have decided that it is in the best interest for Autobots and Decepticons to work together.”

“And what _exactly_ led you to that conclusion?” Ratchet demanded, turning back to Starscream. He was stable at the moment, but there was still much to be done.

“Starscream is not the only one who was attacked. And we have reason to believe that we are not facing Airachnid and Silas as individuals. They may have begun to work together.”

Ratchet’s attention snapped right back to Optimus, looking startled. Megatron took note of the way Arcee tensed, a seemly impossible action given how tightly wound she was already, and the way Bulkhead’s optics widened, his blasters, which had still been aimed at Megatron, slowly lowering. He and Wheeljack exchanged a look.

“What gave you that idea?” Wheeljack asked.

Optimus looked at Megatron, giving a small nod.

“Soundwave went missing this morning.” Megatron began, tapping one digit against his thigh. “I sent him out to investigate a possible signal that our computers indicated belonged to Silas. When he did not return to the ship, I went to look for him, only to find the site of an Insecticon attack at his position. There was webbing left behind from Airachnid, and a strange beacon that was not Cybertronian in origin. Optimus tells me that you have encountered something similar.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve teamed up.” Arcee muttered, almost to herself. She lowered her blasters, but did not disarm them, keeping them ready in case she needed them.

“We believe,” Optimus picked up the discussion, “that Airachnid used MECH technology to lure Soundwave away from the ship in order to attack him. After she had rendered him helpless, Silas and his men returned to the scene and took Soundwave, just as they took Breakdown after Airachnid terminated him.”

“Is that what happened?” Bulkhead’s voice was softer, trying to picture Airachnid getting the best of his deceased enemy.

“Unfortunately.” Megatron confirmed.

“Do you think they will attempt to turn Soundwave into a puppet, like they did to Breakdown?” Ratchet looked between the two leaders, the displeasure gone from his face. They both nodded.

“We do.”

“And why exactly does that all add up to a truce for us?” Wheeljack asked, gesturing toward Starscream with his sword, “By my count, we’ve got two bodies: Mr. Personality and ‘Screamer. Both of them are ‘Cons. This seems like a much bigger problem for Buckethead than it does for us.”

“Do you honestly think Silas will stop with just Decepticons, Wheeljack?” Ratchet shot him a look before Optimus or Megatron could respond to him, “Soundwave was the first victim by pure chance. Airachnid would have attacked anyone who answered that signal. And it’s clear that Starscream found Soundwave before Silas did.” He gestured toward Laserbeak’s resting spot before lowering his torch to a gouge in Starscream’s side, “She probably attacked him in order to stop him from contacting Megatron.”

“Airachnid likes to cause pain.” Arcee added, watching Megatron carefully as he turned his attention to Ratchet, “We trapped her. We kept her prisoner. She’ll come after us.”

“Working together is our best option for survival.” Optimus concluded.

Wheeljack grumbled something unintelligible, but did not argue. His swords disappeared back into their sheathes and he crossed his arms, looking up to meet Optimus’ gaze. “Fine. I see the logic, but I don’t like it.”

“Your opinion is noted.”

Megatron gave a small snort, but did not look away from where Ratchet was working.

“So what happens now?” Bulkhead asked.

“Nothing is changing yet.” Optimus replied, “We will stay in our base, Megatron will stay on his ship. Our communication lines will stay open between us, and any unusual sightings will be reported.”

This dragged Megatron’s attention back to Optimus. They most certainly had not discussed any of that.

“What about energon?” Arcee allowed one blaster to retract. She set her free servo on her hip, her armed blaster resting against her shoulder, watching as Megatron grit his denta. “You control most of the mines. Think you can handle sharing?”

“The details are still being negotiated, Arcee.” Optimus continued before Megatron could reply.

“Well here’s something that is not up for debate.” Ratchet turned off his torch, satisfied for the moment that Starscream was not going to be bleeding again any time soon, “He needs more energon, we don’t have a lot of extra in storage, and the next batch in the processor won’t be ready for another few cycles.” He looked at Megatron, a small challenge in his optics, “If you’re serious about suddenly being a team player, then I could use an energon donation.”

Megatron, still watching Optimus, stood up from his make shift chair. He turned, meeting Ratchet’s challenging look, “Of course, doctor.” He walked over to the medical bay area, sitting at the new spot Ratchet was pointing to. He ignored the way the others shifted, watching him carefully. When Ratchet approached him with a collection cube and an energon line, he offered his arm willingly, not flinching with Ratchet stuck him slightly too forcefully.

“How is he?”

“Too soon to tell.” Was all Ratchet would say.

“And Laserbeak?”

“I haven’t had a chance to examine him.” Ratchet looked up at Optimus, “Come watch the line. You can handle this while I look at Laserbeak now.”

Optimus nodded and moved forward to take his place. He looked back at the others, taking in their defensive postures. The air felt strangely empty, everyone keeping their fields drawn in tight against their bodies. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

“It is late. You should all get some rest.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Optimus.” Arcee looked pointedly at Megatron, obviously not wanting to leave her leader alone with him.

“I will be fine. You all need to sleep.”

The three of them exchanged glances before giving a small nod. Wheeljack and Bulkhead left first, with Arcee covering their backs, her sharp optics watching Megatron the entire time.

Megatron watched with mild, bitter amusement, noticing the way Bulkhead was struggling not to limp, attempting to keep his pede from scraping along the floor.

“He is healing.” Optimus said softly, watching the energon flowing into the medical container. “He will make a full recovery.”

“I must say I’m impressed. Hardshell was quite sure he had off-lined him.”

“Fortunately, Bulkhead is stronger than Hardshell thought.”

“Yes,” Megatron said, watching as the trio of soldiers disappeared into the back, “how very fortunate.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Jackie, calm down, you’re going to blow a fuse if you stay worked up like this.” Bulkhead followed Wheeljack into their shared room, shutting and locking the door behind them, watching as Wheeljack stalked toward the berth, his fists clenched.

“I’m fine.” Wheeljack said a little too roughly. He sat down a little too heavily on the berth, and failed to suppress an angry scowl.

“You’re angry.” Bulkhead sat next to him, “I don’t blame you.”

Wheeljack huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I get what the commanders thinkin’, I do. I’ve never tangled with Airachnid or Silas myself, but from what you’ve told me, they seem like a tough fight. The extra muscle will be helpful. I just hate havin’ to work with ‘Cons.”

“’Cons, or _‘Con,_ Jackie?”

Wheeljack’s scowl deepened.

“Look, I understand. After what he did to Seaspray…I get that you want revenge. But now’s not the time.” Bulkhead set a large servo on his shoulder, “We gotta play nice right now. If Optimus can do it with Megatron…”

“I can do it with Dreadwing, blah, blah, blah.” Wheeljack rolled his optics before sighing, “You’re right, Bulk, I know…”

Bulkhead watched him for a moment, a soft sadness on his face. He draped his arm over Wheeljack’s shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug, his field extending to brush against Wheeljack’s, warm and comforting.

“Please promise me you won’t try anything like you did with Hardshell…You almost died…”

“It’s goin’ to take a lot more than an over grown bug to slag me.” Wheeljack nudged him lightly, his own field extending to mingle with Bulkhead’s.

“I’m serious, Jackie. There will be plenty of time for you and Dreadwing to beat the scrap out of each other later, after this whole thing is over. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you…”

Wheeljack sighed again, pressing closer against Bulkhead’s side. He wrapped his arms around the larger mech as best he could, his audio receiver pressed against green chest plates. The soft hum of a living spark soothed him.

“I feel the same about you, Bulkhead.”

They sat there for a moment, quiet as they enjoyed each other’s company. Bulkhead gently massaged his larger digits over the tire in Wheeljack’s shoulder, smiling softly at the content sigh it earned him.

Wheeljack sat up slowly, one servo moving to rest over Bulkhead’s spark as he looked up to meet Bulkhead’s optics. He gave a small, confident grin.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Neither am I.” Bulkhead squeezed him gently, “C’mon, we should get some sleep.”

“You really goin’ to be able to relax knowin’ Megatron is out there?” Wheeljack shifted to give Bulkhead room to lay down.

“I’m going to be able to relax knowing Optimus is out there to handle him.” Bulkhead corrected, lying back with a low sound.

Wheeljack couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth, “That’s true.” He waited until Bulkhead was comfortable before moving to sprawl on his stomach over Bulkhead’s large chassis. A pleased rumble sounded in his chest when Bulkhead placed one large servo over his lower back.

“At least one good thing comes out of this.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“With the ‘Cons providin’ extra muscle, you’ll have more time to relax. You’ll be healed in no time.”

Bulkhead chuckled, the vibrations in his chest buzzing against Wheeljack’s plating. “Just in time to frag up Silas’ plan.”

“You gotta frag me first.” Wheeljack grinned at him.

Bulkhead grinned back and stroked his thumb once along the base of one of Wheeljack’s winglets. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too, Bulk.” Wheeljack got settled, closing his optics with a content sound. “Sleep well.”

“You too, Jackie.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The machines hooked to Starscream seemed loud in the otherwise silent base. Optimus and Megatron were the only ones left, their optics locked on the scanners and monitors that displayed Starscream’s vitals.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen had arrived shortly after the others had gone to bed. Smokescreen seemed to be the most optimistic about the truce. He even shook Megatron’s servo and congratulated him on becoming “an honorary Autobot” before quickly retreated further into the base to recharge. If Optimus had had less control over himself, he might have chuckled at Megatron’s expression. He did allow himself to feel a small sense of relief at the life that seemed to have returned to the newest recruit.

Bumblebee took it well, listening patiently to Optimus’ explanation, and even asking Megatron questions about what he saw. He had confirmed that he had indeed seen a beacon like the one Megatron destroyed, and agreed whole-heartedly with their conclusion. However, Optimus had not missed the distrust in the young scout’s optics when he looked at Megatron.

He had soon left for the night as well, leaving Optimus, Megatron, and Ratchet alone in the main room.

Optimus had had to almost force Ratchet to bed. After Laserbeak had been repaired and made comfortable, and Ratchet had checked to ensure Starscream was receiving enough energon, his focus had turned to the limbs that were neatly lined up on a table, waiting to be reattached.

“Ratchet,” Optimus had set a servo on his shoulder, “You should be resting as well. You can finish the repairs in the morning, after you have slept.”

Ratchet had scoffed, but Optimus recognized the exhaustion in his frame, “I’m perfectly capable of repairing him now.”

There had been a short squabble, which Megatron watched with mild amusement. In the end, Optimus had won, and Ratchet left for his room after telling Optimus, on no uncertain terms, that he would be back after a _quick_ stasis nap.

That had been three cycles ago.

Megatron shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze shifting from Starscream to Laserbeak, who was resting on a lowered table as close to Starscream as he could be, his wings supported by rolled up blankets. He looked back to Starscream, taking in every weld line and missing limb.

“How close was it?”

Optimus looked at him. This was the first question Megatron had asked directly about Starscream since they had gotten to the base. “Extremely. If we had been a minute slower, he would not have survived. His spark was flickering when we got him into the base.”

Megatron nodded once, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “He would have been able to get away if he had had his t-cog.”

“Mostly likely.” Optimus stepped closer to Megatron, pushing the crate from earlier over so that he could sit with him. “We believe Starscream was using the _Harbinger_ as a shelter.”

“It would be the obvious choice.” Megatron agreed, “And it would explain why he appeared in both the artic with Dreadwing and in the forest with Soundwave. The computer systems must still be linked with the _Nemesis_. I will have Dreadwing take a squadron to destroy the ship. We do not need Airachnid and Silas having access to the ground bridge technology.”

“You should have him search it first. Starscream was able to take ownership of a significant amount of red energon just before Silas reappeared.”

“There was red energon here?”

Optimus nodded, “He was able to take it before we could get to it.”

“You have the coordinates for the ship?”

“I do.”

Megatron pushed himself to his pedes, “I need to use your comm system.”

“Of course.” Optimus stood as well, leading Megatron to the main monitors. He activated the comm link system and stepped aside so that Megatron could step in.

The _Nemesis_ picked up quickly, Dreadwing’s voice filtering through the base’s speaker.

“Were you able to locate Soundwave, Lord Megatron?”

“No, but I found Starscream.”

“When will you and he be returning to the ship?”

“Soon, but not now. There have been some…” Megatron looked at Optimus for a moment, “Interesting developments. I have a job for you.”

“What do you require me to do?”

“I will be sending you the coordinates for the remains of the _Harbinger._ Take a squadron and search the ship. Take any resources you find, then destroy it. Be thorough. We do not want our technology falling into the enemies grasp.”

“Consider it done.”

“Good. I’ll send the coordinates.” Megatron stepped back so that Optimus could enter the coordinates. “I want this done immediately.”

“Understood.”

Megatron ended the call before any more questions could be asked.

“You should return to your ship, before they become worried.”

“I am not leaving until I am sure Starscream will pull through.”

“You should inform your troops of our agreement.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“Megatron-”

“Do not try to tell me how to run my army.” Megatron growled, “It will be best for me to tell them face to face, and I am not leaving until Starscream is stable.”

Optimus watched him for a moment, taking in the familiar determination that was written all over Megatron’s face. It struck him as strange that he was so suddenly concerned with Starscream’s wellbeing, but he was not willing to question it. Megatron cared, that was a good thing.

“You know I cannot allow you to roam freely through the base. And both of us require rest.”

Megatron’s mouth twitched in a small, wry smirk, “It would not be the first time we have shared a berth.”

Optimus’ optics widened ever so slightly, the remark catching him off guard. “That…is true.” He coughed lightly, trying not to let Megatron see that he had surprised him. “We should retire for the night.”

“After you.” Megatron gestured toward the hall that led deeper into the base, moving to follow behind Optimus as he strode forward. He paused as they passed the medical bay, looking at his former second in command one last time.

Optimus came to a halt, watching him, waiting patiently. There was something in Megatron’s optics, something different. He almost made a small surprised sound when he felt Megatron’s field once more, Megatron’s focus on keeping it close momentarily directed elsewhere. Their fields brushed together, familiar and strange at the same time. There was that sensation again…known but unknown…

It clicked. Optimus finally recognized the strange sensation that had come across Megatron’s EM field back in the desert. It had been so long since Optimus, or rather, _Orion,_ had felt its presence in the strong field, that he had forgotten what it had felt like.

_Guilt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrecker fluff; because Wrecker fluff.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a ridiculously hard for me to get out. I'm not quite sure why, but holy hell was this an adventure. 
> 
> This one is about double the length of the other chapters, I didn't even realize how much I had written until I finished. I might have missed some things in editing, so if you see any glaring mistakes please let me know!
> 
> Thank you all again for the comments and kudos! It means a lot to me that you all seem to be enjoying my story! *hugs you all*
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED. MORE HAS BEEN ADDED TO THE ENDING  
> I didn't like the way I left it the first time

Megatron could not remember the last time he had woken up next to someone. It was nice, the familiar warmth, the quiet presence, and for a moment, just for a moment, he let his thoughts drift back to Cybertron, to before the war, to Orion Pax sleeping soundly beside him. He was quick to push the nostalgia away though. That was another time, another place, another person.

Besides, there were more important things to be thinking about.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from lying still when he first woke up, to ensure that he did not disturb Optimus. It hadn’t stopped him from slowly, carefully, propping himself up on his elbow so he could better observe the sleeping form next to him.

_He always did like to sleep on his stomach._

Megatron’s optics swept over Optimus’ form, noting how he folded his arms under his head as a support. They traced over the back of his strong shoulders, the soft curve of his spinal strut, down over his hips and aft to the smooth silver of his thighs. Megatron listened to the steady, quiet _whoosh_ of air being drawn and pushed, in and out, through his vents.

He drew his optics back up to Optimus’ head. Optimus was facing away from him, so Megatron could not see his face, but his field was calm and quiet as he slept. Megatron briefly wondered if he was dreaming.

The last solar cycle (had it really only been one?) had left them all with much to think about. Megatron closed his optics, but did not move, and went over the details again.

_Soundwave is missing, possibly dead._

_Starscream is in critical condition, in Autobot care._

_Silas and Airachnid are working together and most likely have Soundwave as their prisoner._

_Another truce has been declared, to last for an indefinite amount of time._

_I’m in berth with Optimus once more._

The last detail struck Megatron as bitterly amusing. How many times had he wanted to have his past lover with him once more? How close had he been to having what he wanted when Orion Pax had been returned to him once more? How long had it taken him to give up on the ridiculous notion that Optimus could still be his? What sick sense of humor did Primus have to have, for him to only give Megatron another night with Optimus after possibly taking his most loyal friend from him?

_Why do I even care?_

Those days were over, dead and gone. This was war. Orion Pax was gone, replaced by Optimus Prime. There were life and death situations being created at this very moment. Yet his mind was wandering down a long dark path of want.

Irritation flickered through him, directly mostly at himself. He was not a young mechling swooning over a first crush. He had had Orion. He had lost him. And he had better things to worry about than trying to reclaim him.

Optimus’ shifting tore him from his thoughts. The dim lights of the room flashed over silver and blue as Optimus minutely shifted his legs, hydraulics hissing quietly at the movement. A small rumble sounded from his chest and his arms unfolded from under his head, stretching out. Megatron was reminded of the earth felines he had caught the Vehicons watching videos of when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Optimus let out a small groan, and turned his head to face Megatron. It was clear in the small flash of surprise in his optics, in the way his shoulders momentarily tensed, that he, like Megatron had when he first woke, had briefly forgotten about their arrangement.

But the surprise was gone in an instant, his field remained calm, and he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Megatron shifted off his side, sitting up against the wall the berth was pressed against, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he lounged back.

“What time is it?” Optimus rubbed at his optics, stifling a yawn.

“My chronometer says it’s about seven in the morning, earth time.”

“Mm…I overslept…”

“We did not retire until close to four.”

“None the less. We should go out. I am sure Ratchet is already beginning to work on Starscream’s final repairs.”

“Wait.” Megatron set a servo over the back of Optimus’ shoulders as he began to move to rise from the berth. “There are matters we need to discuss.”

Optimus paused under the touch, the feeling of the large servo on his back familiar in a way that made a small part of his spark ache. “I do not believe anything we need to talk about requires us to speak in private.”

“True.” Megatron agreed, “But I find it easier to discuss things civilly when I am not being glared at. Humor me.”

Optimus shifted again, getting more comfortable in his position on the berth, “Very well. What would you like to discuss first?”

Megatron removed his hand from red plating, “What you told your Autobots yesterday, about communications and where we will be staying, we never discussed that.”

“It is a rational choice to keep communications between us open. I assumed that we would want to be able to report any unusual sightings of our adversaries to each other.”

“Your reasoning is valid, but I do not appreciate you making the assumption that I would agree with you without discussing the options with me first.”

Optimus laid his servos out on the berth, palms up. “You are right. I apologize if it seemed that I was making decisions without you. That was not my intention.”

“And what you said about us remaining in our respective bases?”

“I told them what I had to in order to keep them calm. We can discuss it, of course, but I do believe that it would be in our best interest to remain separate, at least for the time being.”

“I disagree. The _Nemesis_ is more secure. It is harder to locate, heavily guarded, well defended, and allows access to better resources.”

“All of that is true, however I do not think mixing our respective armies is a good decision at this time. There is too much tension and distrust. Dreadwing blames Bumblebee and I for the death of his brother, Wheeljack is still angry at Dreadwing for his involvement in Seaspray’s demise, Knock Out and Ratchet have a small but violent history already. Forcing them to share the same quarters could lead to unnecessary and avoidable problems.”

“My crew will obey me when I tell them to leave your Autobots alone. I assume your Autobots would listen to you as well.”

“It is not about their ability to follow orders, Megatron. It is about us doing what we can to make our troops comfortable. Unnecessarily forcing them into a tense situation where they will be unable to relax or properly prepare for their work is not in anyone’s best interest. It would be best if we remained separated, in our own hidden bases.”

“Hidden. You still wish to remain hidden.”

“Of course. I want this truce to last, Megatron, but I know that there is a possibility that it will not. In the event that we continue with our war after Silas and Airachnid have been defeated, I want our base to remain cloaked, and the coordinates to remain secret.”

Megatron rolled his optics, but nodded, “I still believe it would be easier for you to join me on the _Nemesis._ But I can tell you are willing to argue. Fine. Separate bases. However, I will provide you with the _Nemesis’_ coordinates, in the event you require resources.”

“That is very generous.”

“Don’t read into it. The _Nemesis_ moves. If the truce breaks, we can disappear from your radar quickly. I would rather not face off against our new adversaries with weakened partners simply because you are lacking in resources.”

“Speaking of resources…”

“Energon, I know.”

“You have more than enough to share.”

Megatron tilted his head slightly, “I also have a warship that requires a significant amount.”

Optimus hummed, “Perhaps Wheeljack should sit in on this discussion. He would be better able to calculate how much you would need.”

“Are you implying that I am incapable of fairly dividing energon between us?”

“Of course not. But it would help solidify the peace between us if you allowed Wheeljack to do his own calculations.”

Megatron had to resist the urge to roll his optics, “You are certainly set on a complete partnership, aren’t you?”

“I want to do this properly, Megatron.” Optimus shifted, pushing himself farther up on his elbows, “I do not want anyone to feel as though we are ignoring their needs, or that we made decisions without their input. It was leadership like that that drove you to rebel on Cybertron. It is exactly the kind of leadership we should strive to avoid.”

Megatron looked down at Optimus, meeting calm, knowing blue optics. He gave a small nod. “Wheeljack will be welcomed on to the ship once I have informed the others about the circumstances.”

Optimus dipped his head, “Very well.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Megatron shifted against the wall, his optics forward, deep in thought. Optimus watched him, curious as to what he was thinking.

“Is there something else you wish to discuss?”

“I am trying to decide what Airachnid’s plan is.”

Optimus tilted his head slightly, “What do you mean?”

“She left the beacon behind. She left webbing, and Insecticon bodies. It was easy to piece together what had happened to Soundwave. Why would she make it so simple to figure out? What was the point of leaving behind evidence of her involvement with Silas?”

Optimus slowly sat up, tucking one leg under the other as he set one pede on the floor. “She wants to anger you.”

Megatron looked at him again, one optic ridge raised.

“She is flaunting her victory over you. She wants you to make assumptions. She wants you to be angry. Anger causes us to act rashly. Airachnid wants you to attack without thinking, to try to avenge Soundwave. She has laid out the path she expects you to take, and if you follow it, she will win.” Optimus stood, stepping away from the berth so that Megatron could do the same.

Megatron moved to the edge of the berth, both pedes on the floor. He paused. “Do you think I will follow the path Airachnid has made?”

Optimus hesitated, unsure of how comfortable he should be with Megatron. He lifted a servo, pausing only briefly before setting it on Megatron’s shoulder, “The very fact that you are here tells me that you have already chosen a different path.”

Megatron looked up, meeting his optics once more. Something passed between them, a familiar understanding, a familiar moment, and Megatron briefly considered setting a servo over Optimus’.

Then it was over. The servo was lifted, the moment passed, and Megatron stood with a hiss of hydraulics. Small pops sounded out as he stretched his spinal strut and rolled his neck.

“Let us go see how much progress the good doctor is making.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Ratchet had woken from his “quick” stasis nap at almost five in the morning. He had taken enough time to refuel before going to his patients in the medical bay. Laserbeak had sleepily chirped at him, and he had helped the minicon refuel by filling a small bowl with energon and folding a blanket under Laserbeak’s chest so that he could comfortably extended a small, stiff proboscis into the bowl to drink. Once Ratchet had checked over Laserbeak’s injuries and was satisfied that he was settled, he turned his attention back to Starscream.

His spark rate was weak but steady, his energon levels were stable, and none of his wounds had reopened during the night. Ratchet checked him over thoroughly before he pulled the table holding Starscream’s limbs closer to the prone mech. It was time to put him back together.

Starscream’s arm had been fairly easy to reattach, as it had been pulled straight out of the socket. His leg was slightly more demanding, but it was nothing Ratchet hadn’t done before. Reattaching his jaw had been slightly harder, mostly due to the awkward edging that the main strut had. The Insecticon’s denta had cut and crushed the metal, warping the ends and making them impossible to connect without first smoothing them out. Starscream’s helm crest would hold the same challenge, but Ratchet was in no hurry to reattach the non-vital piece of Starscream’s anatomy.

The wings. Those were the truly difficult parts. It had been a long time since Ratchet had had the opportunity to work on a Seeker, and while Starscream’s wings were _technically_ still in one piece, they were shredded; the colored wires and small energon lines that were still dangling free made them more closely resemble clumps of human confetti than the fine-tuned instruments of flight they were supposed to be.

Ratchet pulled up the reference data he had about Seekers and set to work.

He was still working when Megatron and Optimus walked into the main area of the base.

“How is he?”

Ratchet paused, lifting his torch from Starscream’s wings. He looked at Optimus over his shoulder, raising his optic ridge slightly when he saw Megatron, “He’ll live. He’s mostly in one piece. Still working on the wings.”

“He is in good hands.” Optimus smiled softly at him.

“I should be finished within the cycle. You two should fuel. The others will be awake soon.” Ratchet’s gaze shifted to Megatron, “Don’t you have a warship to rule over?”

“I was invited to stay the night.”

“That is not entirely true.” Optimus gave Megatron a look.

“You did not refuse my suggestion.”

Optimus shifted, “No, I did not.”

Ratchet rolled his optics, “I don’t want to know. If you were waiting for an update on Starscream’s condition, you have it. He’ll survive.” He lowered his torch once more, enclosing another bundle of wires back within the wings. “But he’ll need bed rest. A lot of it.”

“I’m assuming he should not be moved?” Megatron asked, moving closer to look at the progress.

“No, he should not.” Ratchet looked up at him, “At least not until he’s awake. He needs to regain some strength.”

Megatron nodded, “I will keep that in mind.”

Optimus stepped forward, his mouth opened to suggest that he and Megatron follow Ratchet’s advice and go retrieve a cube of energon, but was cut off when the comm system chimed a warning of an incoming call.

“Prime!” Agent Fowler appeared on screen, his voice filling the room, “We need to talk about a bug problem!”

“Good morning, Agent Fowler,” Optimus held up a servo to Megatron, silently telling him to wait as he strode over to stand before the monitor, “What do we need to discuss?”

“Our satellites picked up images of what looked like a nasty rumble in the jungle. Trees torn up, rocks destroyed, the whole nine yards. Our recon team went in to check it out, and found three bodies of Cybertronian origin.”

Optimus inclined his head slightly, hoping that the footsteps approaching him did not belong to who he thought they belonged to.

“They said ‘giant bugs’, so I’m assuming they were Insectic- _what in the Sam hell, Prime!?”_ Fowler’s eyes widened considerably, his voice rising to a yell as he spotted Megatron moving behind Optimus. “Why is Megatron inside the base!?”

Optimus resisted the urge to close his optics and pray for patience.

“It has much to do with the current…bug problem.”

“There are much bigger problems than a few Insecticons.” Megatron said, now standing beside Optimus.

Fowler looked back and forth between them, obviously still shocked by the sight. Optimus could see him thinking over the situation, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. After a moment, Fowler closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath.

“Judging by the fact that the base is still in one piece, and there are no dead bodies behind you, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say Megatron is there because you invited him?”

“That would be correct.”

“Last time he was in the base, you were working together.”

“Also correct.”

“Why is he back in the base?”

“The circumstances called for our cooperation again.”

“Circumstances that involve Insecticons.”

“Yes.”

“Which means, from what you’ve told me, circumstances that involve Airachnid.”

“If we have to continue to answer one simple question at a time,” Megatron rumbled, “Explaining the situation will take the rest of your life, human.”

Fowler exhaled slowly, folding his hands together over the top of his desk. “I’m coming over there. I expect a fully detailed report. General Bryce is not going to be happy about this.”

“I understand, Agent Fowler. I will tell you everything you need to know when you arrive.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” Fowler cut the feed.

Optimus turned to look at Megatron, unamused. “I asked you to wait.”

“I did not see the point in hiding.”

Optimus sighed. There was no point in arguing, what was done was done. “After we inform Agent Fowler, we should tell your Decepticons about our agreement.”

Megatron quirked an optic ridge, “We?”

“Yes. You were present when I informed my Autobots, I should be present when you tell your Decepticons. It will help solidify the idea that we are truly working together, and it will help avoid any more misunderstandings.”

Megatron made a small sound that was not quite a snort, “Very well. You may accompany me. Perhaps seeing the advantages the _Nemesis_ provides will persuade you into coming aboard.”

Ratchet shot them both a curious look, but Optimus responded before he could ask.

“We have already had this discussion. We will be staying in our base.” Optimus turned toward the back hallway, “We should refuel before Agent Fowler arrives. He will no doubt require much of our time to fully explain the situation…”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Agent Fowler required several hours of their time before he completely understood and accepted what was happening.

He got off the elevator looking exhausted and disheveled, his eyes locked on Optimus as he walked toward the hand rails so he could be closer to the Autobot leader. Tired though he seemed to be, he did not miss the sound of Ratchet’s welding torch as it continued to mend metal back together. Holding up a hand to stop Optimus’ greeting before it could start, he looked toward the sound, asking, “Who’s hurt?” seconds before his eyes widened at the sight of Starscream lying unconscious in the medical bay.

Optimus hurriedly stepped between Fowler and Starscream, eager to explain the situation before Agent Fowler began to worry.

“Starscream was badly wounded by an Insecticon, Agent Fowler. He required immediate assistance.”

Fowler seemed to be struggling to remain calm. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, “Was he attacked by the Insecticons we found?”

“No, he was only attacked by one. The three Insecticons you found were responsible for an attack on Soundwave.”

Fowler paused, his eyes opening again, “Soundwave was attacked too?”

“Soundwave was ambushed.” Megatron corrected.

“Ambushed.” Fowler repeated. “By giant, loud, insects. Your spy master, Mr. Stealth and Silence, was caught off guard by insects that, while strong, couldn’t walk through a forest without tearing up half the trees.”

“No. He was caught up in a trap laid by Airachnid and Silas.”

Fowler’s gaze snapped to Megatron, “Airachnid _and_ Silas?”

“We have reason to believe they are working together.”

Fowler looked back at Optimus, his hand slowly lowering from his face to grip at the hand rails. “Let me get this straight.” He started slowly, his voice sounding calm. It rose in volume as he talked, “You have a theory about two extremely dangerous threats, are treating an enemy soldier, _and_ had a slumber party with the head of the Decepticon army, and I am just _now_ hearing about any of this?! Do you have any idea how bad this looks!?”

“Things happened very quickly last night, Agent Fowler,” Optimus said calmly, attempting to placate his friend, “There was very little time for us to contact you.” He was very aware of Megatron’s field brushing against his, bright with amusement as he watched Fowler glare at the much larger Prime.

“I need details, Prime. _Now.”_

So Optimus and Megatron recounted everything from the previous day, from beginning to end. Fowler listened quietly, eyes going back and forth between them as they took turns telling the story. Ratchet joined them once he was finished with Starscream’s wings, giving Fowler the medical details about Starscream and Laserbeak’s injuries. The others slowly filtered in as they talked, their faces going from tired to intrigue as they saw Fowler face to faceplate with Megatron.

Optimus explained the truce and the details they had agreed to, and that was the end.

Fowler tapped his fingers against the metal hand rail, mulling over the information. “Alright, so we’ve got a new truce. Soundwave is missing. Silas and Airachnid are working together.” He rubbed his face. “Do we know if he’s alive?”

“We have no proof that he is.” Optimus said honestly, “However,”

“We believe that Soundwave is alive.” Megatron finished for him, “Airachnid is sadistic, and she is intelligent. She knows that Soundwave holds vast amounts of information. She would want him alive, at least for now.”

Fowler nodded, “We’re working on cleaning up where Soundwave was attacked. I need to go inform General Bryce about this development.”

“Agent Fowler, it would be best if the children stayed with you and Nurse Darby for the time being.”

“Miko won’t be happy to hear that.” Fowler gave a weak smile, “But I’ll see what I can do. I’ll let you know if we have any MECH sightings.”

“Many thanks, Agent Fowler. We will call if we come across any new information.”

“You’d better.” Fowler gave Megatron one last look, “The only reason I’m allowing this is because I trust Optimus. Don’t think for a second that I trust you.” With that, he went back to the elevator, the doors sliding smoothly shut behind him.

“That’s tellin’ him.” Wheeljack muttered around his cube. Megatron ignored him, turning his head to look at Optimus.

“Are you ready to depart?”

Optimus nodded before casting his gaze over the others. “Megatron and I are going to inform the rest of the Decepticons about our new truce. I want all of you to remain here, in the base.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Arcee stood up from her seat on the floor between Smokescreen and Bumblebee. “No one on the _Nemesis_ will be happy to see you.”

“No one will harm him if I order them to stand down.” Megatron told her.

“Do you expect us to trust you to give that order?” She shot back.

“Arcee is right, Optimus.” Ratchet said, his arms crossed over his chest, “You should take back up.”

“Enough.” Optimus said gently, “I trust Megatron to keep his word at this time. There is much to gain from our cooperation, and very little to gain from fighting now. I will be going alone.” He looked at Wheeljack, “I will be sending for you once the situation had been fully explained. Megatron has agreed to let you calculate how the gathered energon could best be split between us and the _Nemesis.”_

“I can come now.” Wheeljack stood from his seat next to Bulkhead.

“No. It would be best to wait for the others to be fully informed. Wait until I call for you.” Optimus looked at Megatron, gesturing toward the ground bridge controls. Megatron moved without a word, pausing to think of the ship’s course before typing in the coordinates.

The bridge opened with a roar, and Optimus gave his Autobots one last look. All of them were tense, watching Megatron with distrust as he waited for Optimus by the entrance to the bridge. Optimus gave them a small, reassuring smile.

“I will send for Wheeljack soon.” Then he turned and walked through the bridge with Megatron.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

All things considered, Optimus thought the Decepticons took the news rather well. After they stopped drawing on him long enough to listen to Megatron, that is.

The Vehicons and Eradicons seemed to accept it the easiest, though Optimus could hear some grumblings and unhappy shifting. Dreadwing was the least thrilled. His jaw was clenched so tightly Optimus was worried he would crack something, and every movement he made was stiff. Even so, he accepted Megatron’s orders with grace.

“I have seen first-hand how helpful the Prime can be when working together against a common foe. But I have to ask, Lord Megatron, how long is this truce going to last?”

Optimus and Megatron exchanged a look.

“That has yet to be determined.” Megatron said after a moment of silent contemplation. “The time frame is not important at this moment. We need to prepare for the upcoming battles.”

Together they explained the details that had already been decided upon; the separate bases, the open communication, and the energon sharing. Optimus was able to call for Wheeljack after less than two cycles, and Megatron led the two of them to the energon storage vault, where a Vehicon was waiting with detailed reports about the mining operations and the ships intake.

It took Wheeljack a few cycles to gather all the information he needed, but he was able to get his work done quickly, and without hassle from rest of the Decepticons.

Things went rather smoothly.

Until they returned to the bridge to send Wheeljack back to base.

“I want to see Starscream.” Knock Out demanded the second they stepped onto the bridge. “You said he was attacked, I want to see the damage.”

“Starscream is receiving the best care he can, Knock Out,” Optimus said, “He is going to recover.”

“Starscream is a Decepticon. I am the Decepticon medic. And we all know that you Autobots are working with scraps and human left overs. I want to see him, now.”

Megatron looked at Optimus, “It is your base.”

Optimus looked at Wheeljack, who shrugged. “It’s not like we have to worry about him slaggin’ him.”

“Very well, Knock Out. You may accompany us back to our base.”

“I would like to come as well.” Dreadwing moved to stand beside Knock Out. “If only so I may properly greet those I will be working beside.”

“I expect you both to be courteous.” Megatron rumbled, “While we are working together, infighting will not be tolerated, is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Megatron.”

Optimus called Ratchet for a bridge, warning him that Knock Out and Dreadwing would be coming with them to check up on Starscream.

“Wonderful.” Ratchet huffed, but that was all he commented. The bridge opened quickly, and the small group stepped through into the Autobot base.

Arcee and Bumblebee stood just a little too stiffly next to Bulkhead, all three of them watching as the visiting party walked through the bridge. Wheeljack moved to take his place in front of Bulkhead, looking bored but keeping his optics on Dreadwing. Smokescreen was helping Ratchet clean his tools, though he looked up quickly when Knock Out approached.

Knock Out silently took in the damage and the repairs. Starscream was back in one piece, all except for the crest on his helm, which Ratchet was attempting to work back into its proper shape as Knock Out did his examination.

Starscream’s wings were a crisscrossed mess of weld marks and scratches, his leg was dented and marred, and his face would need some serious buffing, but he was whole and alive. The welds that held him together were smooth and even, obviously holding strong. As much as he wanted to, Knock Out could not find fault with Ratchet’s work. He could, however, find fault in the equipment that Starscream was hooked up to.

The monitors were old, even by human standards. Knock Out highly doubted that they would be able to warn the others if Starscream began to crash. The energon IV was obviously homemade, pieced together from spare parts. Everything in the medical bay was patched, welded, old, or even rusted in some cases. Knock Out shuddered. This was not even close to acceptable.

“He needs to be moved.” He looked at Megatron, “Starscream needs real medical supplies, in a fully functioning medical bay. He needs to come back to the _Nemesis._ ”

“Absolutely not!” Ratchet snapped, “He is no condition to be ground bridging!”

“He won’t be in a condition to do anything unless he gets proper treatment with proper tools!”

“I have been keeping the Autobots fit for duty with these tools since we were put in this base! I am completely capable of keeping Starscream alive!”

“You are not his doctor!”

“Neither are you! Starscream is a rogue! He called us, was found by us, and is being taken care of _by us!_ That puts _me_ in charge of him, and he is not being moved!”

Knock Out whirled around to face Megatron, his field lashing out with fury. Dreadwing watched him carefully, recognizing the look on his face. It was the same look he had had when he was yelling at the Vehicons.

“Are you going to allow your ex-Second in Command to stay with the enemy!? He needs more intensive care!”

“The Autobots are not our enemy at this point in time, Knock Out.” Megatron said, his tone not to be argued with. “Starscream is receiving perfectly good care. He is in one piece, and stable.”

“Stable does not mean recovering!” Knock Out almost snarled, his optics bright with an almost feral anger. Megatron’s tone, which usually dissuading any argument, had no effect on him, “Do you honestly plan on leaving him behind with _them?!”_

“We will all be working very closely together.” Megatron growled warningly, “I am not _leaving him_ anywhere. I am listening to a medical opinion that he is not to be moved. Starscream stays here, until he can be safely shifted back to the _Nemesis_. If you can swallow your pride long enough to work with another medic, you will be allowed to help with his recovery.”

Knock Out reeled back, looking like he had just been smacked. His lip twitched over his denta and his optics darkened. Smokescreen instinctively flinched away from the sharp lashes of the medic’s field over his own.

Dreadwing quickly stepped between Knock Out and Megatron, his own field filled with a controlled calm.

“Knock Out, you hardly slept last night. You are tired. It must be hard seeing a friend in this condition. Perhaps you should return after a night of rest.”

If looks could kill, Dreadwing was sure he would be graying husk on the floor. Knock Out glared daggers at him, his servos discreetly beginning to shake in his fury.

“You and I should return to the ship. You can come back tomorrow with any equipment you think the Autobots could use.” Dreadwing set a servo on Knock Out’s arm, feeling slightly relieved when the smaller mech did not pull away from him. He could feel the others watching him, but he didn’t care. He had never see Knock Out snap at Lord Megatron before. It was obvious to him that something was very wrong. Getting Knock Out away from the Autobot base so he could attempt to find out what was bothering him was his top priority at the moment.

No one stopped them as Dreadwing led Knock Out to the still open bridge. He gave Megatron a small farewell nod before stepping through the bridge and back on the _Nemesis._ The bridge closed quickly behind them, giving Dreadwing the distinct feeling that none of the others wanted Knock Out back in the base anytime soon.

Knock Out yanked his arm out of Dreadwing’s grasp as soon as they were on the _Nemesis_ again. Worried for his emotional wellbeing, Dreadwing followed him as he stalked out of the bridge and down the halls of the ship, making his way to the medical bay.

They didn’t quite make it. Knock Out, aware that he was being followed and not at all pleased by the knowledge, came to a sudden stop in the middle of an empty hall. Dreadwing nearly crashed into the smaller mech before he could stop himself.

“Knock Out, if there is something you wish to talk about-”

Knock Out whirled around, “How can you trust him!?”

Dreadwing blinked, unsure of who Knock Out was referring to. “Who? Ratchet?” He asked, wondering if Knock Out was upset that he had taken the Autobot medic’s side, “I do not believe he has any intention of hurting-”

“Not him!” Knock Out snapped, “Megatron!”

Now Dreadwing was completely lost, “Why…wouldn’t I?”

“What reason is there too!? Have you payed any attention to how he treats us!?”

“Knock Out, you are upset by seeing Starscream in such a condition, it is normal to be angry-”

“I am _upset_ because Megatron is only showing me that he truly doesn’t care about the Cybertronians that are willing to die under his command!”

“I do not understand…”

“ _Have you payed any attention at all!?”_ Knock Out was bellowing at this point, his voice echoing down the halls, “Soundwave was the only one he gave a slag about! He didn’t even _look_ for Starscream when he left! He sent his Second in Command out on a mission with someone _known_ for screwing others over, and didn’t seem at all concerned when he didn’t come back! He left him out there alone, without resources or energon of any kind! Starscream got attacked because he wasn’t able to fly! Why wasn’t he able to fly? _Because he got his t-cog taken by someone he never should have had to associate with if Megatron had done his job as a leader!”_

Dreadwing opened his mouth, attempting to calm the raging mech. But Knock Out wasn’t finished.

“I come back injured after chasing down a relic, and what does he have me do!? _Fix a crack in Soundwave’s visor!_ I had pinched lines, crushed plating, and a misaligned fuel tank, and he had me shining Soundwave’s face!”

“Knock Out, please, calm down-”

“He allowed that _abomination_ on board the ship without a second thought!” Knock Out yelled on as if he hadn’t heard, “After everything Silas had done to our kind, Megatron actually considered letting him join the ranks inside a stolen body! A body that he never would have gotten his disgusting, fleshy servos on if Megatron had done his own fragging dirty work, _instead of sending you and Breakdown to do it for him!”_

Knock Out was almost screaming now, and Dreadwing felt completely lost with no idea what to do.

 _Oh, I blame someone._ The previous conversation he had had with Knock Out suddenly came to mind, _there is only one person I blame for this._

And suddenly it made sense. The anger, the aggression toward Megatron, the sudden need to be alone.

“How can you follow him without question!?” Knock Out slammed the side of his fist against Dreadwing’s chest, “How can you stay so loyal to him!?”

Dreadwing was not the best at handling such vivid emotions, but he did the only thing he could think to do.

He grabbed Knock Out, gentle but firm, and hugged him against his chest, attempting to keep his field warm and comforting.

“Let go of me!” Knock Out shoved at him, his sharpened digits peeling at paint as he raged, “Get off!”

“I am sorry.” Dreadwing said softly, “I am sorry for your pain.”

Knock Out quieted, not expecting the response he was given. He vented hard with his digits still digging sharply into Dreadwing’s chest.

“I am sorry that Breakdown is gone.” Dreadwing continued, gently rubbing a servo in a circle on Knock Out’s back, between his shoulders. “I am sorry that I took him with me that night.”

“ _No!”_ Knock Out said forcefully, his voice sounding thicker, “ _Megatron_ is the one who sent you on that assassination mission! If he had done it himself, if he had cleaned up his own mess, then maybe…” His vents hitched, though he tried to keep himself together, “Maybe…”

“Maybe Breakdown would still be here…” Dreadwing finished for him, closing his optics.

Knock Out hiccupped, his field suddenly filling with pain and sorrow. He didn’t even try to control it. He went limp in Dreadwing’s arms, his servos clinging now instead of clawing. “He didn’t care…he never said a word about him…” He hiccupped again, his optics welling with tears that quickly slid down his face, “He left Breakdown behind when he was captured…he didn’t care what happened to him then…and he didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he was killed…” Knock Out inhaled sharply in an attempt to hold himself together, his voice growing hard. “He replaced him with a bug, some useless drone, as if it could Breakdown’s place. It’s like Megatron didn’t even notice he was gone…”

Knock Out hiccupped for a third time. The hardness and anger left his voice, “But I notice. I notice every day. Every morning when I wake up alone, every refueling time when there is no one to hide my flavoring packet, every night when I wake up screaming…I notice. I’m alone…and it’s all his fault…”

And with that final statement, Knock Out broke. Dreadwing tighten his hold on the smaller mech as his knees went weak, holding Knock Out steady as he began to sob heavily against Dreadwing’s chest.

“Easy…easy…” Dreadwing continued to rub at Knock Out’s back, carefully drawing his field close to his body so that Knock Out would not feel the guilt beginning to course through him.

_I never should have taken him with me._

“Knock Out,” Dreadwing kept his voice low and gentle, “When is the last time you slept?”

Knock Out shook his head, trying to speak clearly through the ragged sobs he seemed incapable of stopping, “I don’t…don’t know…can’t sleep…”

“You need rest. Let me walk you to your room…”

Knock Out nodded and allowed Dreadwing to lead him down the hallway to the medical bay and the attached hab suite. The door slid open smoothly for them as they approached, and Dreadwing helped Knock Out to his berth. His servos were steady and strong when Knock Out stumbled.

It broke Dreadwing’s spark to see how worn down Knock Out suddenly looked. He had known that the medic was not sleeping like he should be, but he had always hid his exhaustion so well. It never once looked like he was crashing. Now that Dreadwing was this close, he could see just how much he had missed. Knock Out’s optics were dim, unhealthily so, his joints were whining softly as he moved, a sign that they were being worked longer and harder with no rest. There were small scuffs and scratches on Knock Out’s armor, around his shoulder pauldrons and hips, places others might not look. On any other mech it would have been normal. Day to day activities led to a roughened paint job. But on Knock Out, someone who, normally, so proudly kept himself polished and waxed to the point of perfection…

Dreadwing helped Knock Out settle on the berth, keeping one servo on his shoulder as a support. “I am sorry for your loss…and for the emotional struggle you are fighting through. I had heard that you and Starscream were friends, and I am sorry you had to see him in such a state on top of everything else.” Dreadwing hesitated, unsure if Knock Out wanted him to leave or not. Slowly he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the berth, careful not to crowd the grieving mech. “I do understand the pain, Knock Out. If you require anyone to talk to, I will be available to you. You should not have to suffer alone.”

Knock Out swallowed, but did not respond. The tears had slowed, the sobbing had quieted, and he lay still, focusing on the steady warmth of Dreadwing’s servo against his plating.

“You should rest.” Dreadwing said softly. He began to stand, “I will leave you alone for now. Please, do not hesitate to find me should you need company.”

Knock Out grabbed his servo before he could move away, sitting up quickly so he could grab at Dreadwing’s arm as well. “No, please…don’t leave.” He swallowed around the lump that had reappeared in his throat. He felt as if he had been flayed open, left exposed and raw and vulnerable. Being alone sounded like the worst kind of torture. “Don’t leave me here…it’s so quiet…it’s so empty…” On any other day, Knock Out would have hated how pathetic he sounded. He didn’t beg, he left others begging. But at that moment, in that room, after Silas and Airachnid and Starscream…he could not bring himself to care.

“Stay…please…”

Dreadwing set a servo over Knock Out’s, “Alright.” He murmured, “Alright.”

Knock Out laid back down, shifting to one side and tugging lightly at Dreadwing’s arm until he followed him down. Dreadwing was slightly startled when Knock Out quickly pressed against his frame, but he did not hesitate to wrap his arms around him.

“You are not alone…”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“I’ve never seen one of your troops snap at you.” Wheeljack looked at Megatron. “That was new.”

Megatron shot him a sharp look, “Knock Out is still grieving. Some anger is to be expected. However, he will be expected to keep his temper in check when working with you.”

“If he is still in the process of grieving, maybe you should provide him more support than simply telling him to ‘keep it in check.’” Ratchet said heatedly.

“Do not presume to understand my troops, doctor.” Megatron growled, “I will handle my army, and you can handle yours.”

Ratchet gave Optimus a pointed look. Optimus held up a servo; he would continue the discussion with Megatron later.

“Well.” Ratchet continued, turning his back on Megatron so he could finish repairing Starscream’s helm crest, “Regardless of how you ‘handle’ your mechs, I do not want Knock Out in my medical bay until he is more stable.”

“Next time he works with you, he will be professional.” Megatron turned away from Ratchet, finished with the conversation. He raised an optic ridge at Optimus’ expression. Optimus looked at the gathered Autobots.

“Smokescreen, Arcee, Bumblebee, I would like the three of you to go on an evening patrol. Keep your comm links open.”

“Understood.” Arcee patted Smokescreen’s arm as she moved past him, following Bumblebee to the entrance of the base. The trio transformed and left with a roar of engines.

“I’m goin’ to go finish my calculations on the energon harvestin’.” Wheeljack said, “C’mon Bulk.”

Bulkhead shifted, turning toward the back hall, “See you in the morning everyone.”

“Rest well Bulkhead.” Optimus nodded at him as he and Wheeljack made their way toward their room.

“It is rather early in the evening.” Megatron rumbled, ignoring a soft beeping that was starting in the medical bay. He was familiar with which sounds required immediate attention, and that was not one of them.

“It is.” Optimus moved to grab a blank data pad as Ratchet shifted to check Starscream’s monitor. “Perhaps we should take this time to officially write out the conditions of our truce.”

“You might want to hold that thought for a moment, Optimus.” Ratchet said, looking over his shoulder at them.

“Why is that?” Megatron asked, twisting his torso just enough to look at the medic.

“Because,” Ratchet straightened his back, “Starscream is waking up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops angst ^^;


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy I wrote some smut! It's pretty lax in detail, but there you go.  
> This chapter was pretty fun to write, I had a good time.  
> Soundwave, I am so, so sorry...

_There was fog. Fog everywhere. It settled like a blanket over the land, weaving around trees, covering the grass, twisting shadows into unrecognizable, terrifying shapes. Knock Out moved slowly, every pede step sounded muffled, yet simultaneously deafening._

_“Breakdown!” He voice echoed into the forest, “Breakdown, come out!”_

_An image flashed before his optics; rocks, moss, darkness. There and gone in a flash._

_“Kno~ock Ou~ut…”_

_Knock Out gasped, whirling around at the sound of his name, drawn out in Breakdown’s more playful voice._

_“This isn’t funny anymore!” Knock Out set his servos on his hips. Despite the playful tone of his partner’s voice, Knock Out couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong._

_“Knock Out!” Breakdown again, no longer playful. Now he was yelling, calling out in the tone he kept reserved for the battlefield, “Knock Out! Where are you?!”_

_“I’m right here! Breakdown!” Knock Out moved forward, the fog swirling around his legs and pedes._

_Another image flashed in Knock Out’s mind; a different forest, dark and clear of fog. It rushed past him like he was running, large boulders turning into blurs as he flew past._

_It disappeared._

_“Knock Out!” Now there was fear._

_“Breakdown!” Knock Out yelled, his spark beginning to hammer in his chest. He ran forward, pushing off of trees as he moved toward the voice._

_Laughter. Cold, cruel, feminine laughter. Knock Out stopped running, turning in a circle as he tried to figure out which direction it was coming from. Fear, cold and sharp, crashed over him._

_“Breakdown! Say something!” Knock Out swallowed, waiting for a response, “Answer me, slag you!” He stepped forward again, freezing when the ground squelched under his pede, a warm, wet feeling pooling around it. Swallowing, he looked down._

_Energon, bright and warm, was drowning the earth, oozing around his pedes. Knock Out swallowed, his mouth and throat going dry at the same time his servos began to shake._

_“Br-Breakdown…?”_

_“Kno-ock Ou-ut…” there was the playful tone again, only this time it was the feminine voice._

_A chill crept up Knock Out’s spinal strut as the feeling of being watched over took him. He spun around, venting hard, and nearly screamed at the sight of two purple optics floating in the fog. They blinked and disappeared._

_Knock Out tried to run, to move forward and find Breakdown before something happened. He was pulled to a rough halt by the sticky webbing that was suddenly wrapped around his wrists. It yanked him back hard, his pedes slipping in the energon that seemed to be bubbling from the ground beneath him._

_Breakdown yelled out, deafening in the quiet, a sound filled with fear and agony. The sound cut off suddenly, unnaturally, and there was silence._

_“Breakdown!”_

_So silent._

_“BREAKDOWN!”_

_The laugh sounded out again, directly behind Knock Out. He jumped, pedes kicking out, connecting with something hard. Venting hard, his entire body trembling, he looked down._

_Down at the orange face plate, the dark, empty, yellow optic…_

_He screamed._

Knock Out jolted awake, spark pounding a painful rhythm against its chamber. He opened his optics, taking in the gray walls of the _Nemesis_ , the soft, red earth blanket under him; the one Breakdown had gotten him as a surprise. There was a pleasant weight against his back, a familiar, delightful soreness in his hips, and as he closed his optics again, Knock Out registered the blue paint of the arm that was draped over his waist.

A relieved sigh escaped him.

_It was just a nightmare…I’ll have to tell Breakdown to remind me not to drink mercury before bed…_

Knock Out pressed back against the body behind him, smiling softly as the arm around him tightened its hold slightly. He reached up, sliding his servo over the arm, gently caressing down to twine his digits with Breakdown’s.

Except Breakdown didn’t have claws. And the chest against his dorsal plating was too flat.

Knock Out’s optics snapped open again.

The arm was the wrong shade of blue.

Knock Out shifted slightly, careful but quick, to look past his shoulder pauldrons and into the still sleeping golden faceplate of the mech behind him.

Dreadwing.

The previous night flashed through his mind.

Starscream, snapping at Megatron, the emotional melt down, Dreadwing carefully leading him to his berth, Dreadwing lying down beside him and holding him close when he curled against him.

Dreadwing, murmuring soft comfort into his audio receivers when he began to tremble. Soft whispers of ‘it will be alright’, ‘you are safe’, ‘you are not alone’, and ‘I’m here’.

_I’m here._

Knock Out remembered the slow feeling of peace that gradually soothed his spark.

He wasn’t alone. There was someone with him. Someone was there, someone understood; someone was acknowledging that he was hurting. Someone was comforting and holding him.

Knock Out remembered the peace turning to sudden desperate need. The need to know that Dreadwing was actually there. The need to know that this was real, that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. The need to feel close to someone again, if only for a moment.

And then Knock Out remembered the way Dreadwing’s lips had felt against his after he had pushed up to kiss the surprised Seeker. He remembered how Dreadwing’s servos had immediately left their place on his body, flying out to the sides so that he was no longer pressing Knock Out against him, as if checking to see if Knock Out was trying to escape his hold in some new, bizarre evasion trick.

He remembered. Oh, he remembered.

Red optics meeting his when he pulled back, wide with surprise. The easy, pliant way Dreadwing had rolled onto his back when Knock Out pushed at his shoulder so he could crawl on top of the larger mech.

“Knock Out, you are hurting, this…we should not be…”

Knock Out pressed his servo gently against Dreadwing’s mouth, his field trembling with desperation, “Please…please don’t be noble…not right now…I need this…I need to feel…” This was the first time Knock Out had been unable to articulate exactly what he wanted. It was usually his specialty in the berth, “Need contact…need this…need you…” He bent low over Dreadwing’s chest, pressing another pleading kiss to his lips.

Dreadwing did not refuse him. Slowly, too slowly for Knock Out’s liking, he moved his servos back to Knock Out’s body; resting them lightly on his hips. Out of the way, non-confining, allowing Knock Out complete control.

Knock Out could have cried at the gentle sensation of Dreadwing’s lips shifting against his own. The soft caress was not enough, and at the same time it was too much. He needed something rough, hard, all consuming and processor melting to chase away the ugly feelings of loneliness and pain. But the gentleness…oh Primus the _kindness_ …it was something Knock Out had been missing since Breakdown had disappeared. It was like a drug, addicting and heady, and Knock Out craved it like he craved energon. He wanted it, he _needed_ it.

His servos slid down Dreadwing’s chest, digits scraping lightly over the glass cockpit. He explored Dreadwing’s torso with finely trembling servos, playing over the edges of the wings on Dreadwing’s shoulders, curling his digits under the edges of armor, drawing small shivers and sounds from the mech beneath him.

And through it all Dreadwing continued to kiss him slowly, softly, their lips barely parting between kisses. Knock Out let himself get lost in the sensation, his mind focusing on the next kiss, the next slide of his servos, the next sound from Dreadwing.

He could not remember exactly when Dreadwing had begun to return the soft touches, but he did remember that small pleasured sob he had to choke back when Dreadwing trailed careful, oh so gentle claws down his back. He pulled back from the kiss so that he could gasp raggedly at the feeling of those sharp digits tracing the biolights on his lower back, barely touching the top of his pelvic armor.

Knock Out couldn’t quite tell how long it took before their panels opened. He couldn’t remember who opened first; hell, he couldn’t even remember what Dreadwing’s spike looked like (had he even looked?) But he remembered how sinfully good it had felt when he had lowered himself over it.

Dreadwing’s servos had settled on his hips again, holding him steady as he slowly pressed down. Knock Out vaguely remembered Dreadwing trying to tell him he should wait, prepare himself first, but Knock Out had shushed him, too desperate to feel the overwhelming pleasure to care. Even still, Dreadwing had kept his wit enough to ensure Knock Out did not hurt himself.

Knock Out lost himself in the moment. He moved slowly, circling his hips, lifting up and pressing down over Dreadwing’s spike, his valve clenching deliciously around the welcomed intrusion. Dreadwing rocked up into him steadily, keeping pace with the rhythm that Knock Out set. His thumbs circled soothing patterns against the grill on Knock Out’s sides.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

Knock Out sobbed as pleasure surged through his lines, drowning his increasingly violent thoughts, burying the darkness that had been slowly taking over him. His hips rocked down more desperately, losing the rhythm he had been trying to build. It was erratic, rough, nothing like he was use to; the finesse and skill he normally prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. He wanted the pleasure, the release, the relief both emotional and physical. Tact be damned.

When he faltered, Dreadwing picked up the slack.

A ragged cry tore from Knock Out’s mouth when Dreadwing sat up, his spike angling deeper into Knock Out’s valve. Strong servos gripped at red hips, steadying their frantic motions.

Knock Out remembered the pleasure that erupted inside him when Dreadwing held him close, whispering soft murmurs of comfort into his audio receivers. It was a pleasure he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since Breakdown had held him like this. It was soft, gentle; a soothing pleasure that was a sharp contrast to the mind melting sensations coming from between his thighs.

He wrapped his arms around Dreadwing’s neck and listened to the sweet comfort that was whispered to him.

Knock Out reached his overload with a cry, the release washing through him like a cleansing wave. His vision whited out as he rode through his climax, and when he came back to himself, Dreadwing was holding him close, still murmuring against his helm as he stroked down his back.

He did not remember falling asleep. But Knock Out knew that last night had been the best night’s sleep he had had in a very, very long time.

Dreadwing stirred slightly, his arm tightening once more around Knock Out.

 _How is he going to react to this?_ Knock Out asked himself. He wasn’t even sure how _he_ should be reacting to it.

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Dreadwing yawned, his optics opening slowly as he stretched his legs out along the berth. When he registered Knock Out’s face, he went very, very still.

Knock Out prepared himself for the awkward conversation; the throat clearing, the apologizing, the hurried escape from the room.

Dreadwing surprised him.

The arm around Knock Out shifted, pulled back so that only Dreadwing’s servo maintained contact with his side. Dreadwing watched Knock Out carefully as the latter shifted so he could more comfortably face his guest, but he did not pull away.

“How are you feeling?” Dreadwing’s voice, made deeper with the last dredges of sleep, rumbled softly in the quiet room.

Knock Out took a moment to think about the question.

“Better. Much better. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good night sleep.”

“I could tell.” Dreadwing shifted slightly. The awkwardness Knock Out was expected flashed quickly through his field, easily replaced with a mild sheepishness. “Are you sore?”

“It’s nothing I’m not use to.” Knock Out sat up and stretched his arms, letting out a yawn as he swung his legs off the berth. A small amount of surprise registered when he realized that he was not covered in dried fluids from last night’s romp. Dreadwing must have stayed up late to clean the transfluid and lubricant off of him.

Knock Out tapped his digits against the side of the berth. “Thank you, for last night. For getting me back here, for making sure I was okay.” He looked back at Dreadwing, “Thank you for at least acting like you care.”

“It is not an act.” Dreadwing said softly. He pushed himself up and slid across the berth until he was sitting beside Knock Out, “You and I have not known either other for long, but I do not believe that anyone deserves to grieve alone.”

Knock Out looked up at him, his expression thoughtful. “If you feel like it’s your duty to care for me because you blame yourself for Breakdown’s death, you should stop. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want anyone feeling like they’re obligated to care about me.”

“It is not like that. I do partly blame myself, yes, though I know you do not. But I know I am not obligated to comfort you. This is not about duty. I want to offer support, Knock Out. This is my choice.”

Knock Out watched his face for a moment, sharp optics looking deeply into his. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Knock Out nodded and leaned back on his servos, turned his head to look down at the flecks of blue paint that now decorated his inner thighs. “I suppose we should talk about this.” He said, moving one servo to scratch at a larger smear of paint.

“I am not expecting more.” Dreadwing looked at his own lap, observing the small streaks of red paint there, “Grief and anger cause us to act out, and the need for comfort can make us desperate for any kind of physical contact. I am glad that last night seemed to have helped you, but I am not expecting you to invite me back into your berth.”

Knock Out laughed. It was small and quick, but it was genuine and natural. It felt good on his vocalizer, and Dreadwing could not help but feel relieved at the show of brighter emotion. “You are the easiest one night stand I’ve ever had.”

Dreadwing offered a small smile, unsure how to respond to such an odd compliment.

“We should clean up.” Knock Out continued easily. “It wouldn’t look good for us to walk out sporting each other’s colors.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Dreadwing stood up, “What do you need?”

Knock Out directed him to the storage unit filled with buffers and cloths, and they cleaned off in a comfortable silence. Dreadwing inspected his thighs and hips one last time to ensure that he had removed any wayward paint.

“There is something I would like to discuss.”

“What would that be?” Knock Out paused his work on his inner thigh.

“What you said about Lord Megatron, the blame you have placed on him.”

“No.” Knock Out went back to his buffing, “I am not nearly in a pleasant enough mood to discuss that. We can talk about it later, if it bothers you so much.”

“Knock Out…”

“No, Dreadwing. Later.”

Dreadwing decided not to press his luck. Knock Out was looking better than he had in a long time; he did not want to ruin it now. “Alright. We should retrieve our morning rations.” He went to the door of the berth room.

“Are you coming?” He asked when Knock Out did not follow him. The medic had shifted, observing himself in a wall mounted mirror, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ll be out in a bit.” He frowned, running one servo over his shoulder pauldrons, “I need to get these scratches buffed out. How long have I left them for?”

“Um…it has been a significant amount of time…”

Knock Out shuddered, “Unsightly.” He moved to the storage unit to grab a buffer and a container of wax.

Dreadwing smiled. There was the Knock Out he was used to. A glimpse of him, anyway. “I will bring you a cube of energon.” He unlocked the door and moved to walk out, nearly running into the Vehicon who had been seconds away from knocking.

“Oh…” The Vehicon looked just as surprised as Dreadwing, “Good morning, Commander Dreadwing. I…um…I was told to deliver a message to Knock Out.”

“What is it?” Knock Out moved to the door instantly, more alert than he had been in days. Dreadwing shifted to the side so that Knock Out could fully address the messenger.

“It’s a message from Lord Megatron.”

“Well? What are you waiting for? Spit it out.”

“It’s Starscream, sir. He’s waking up.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Starscream attempted to swat at the annoying light that was trying so hard to blind him. His right arm weakly shifted, his left arm was unresponsive. An irritate growl, reduced to a low mechanical groan, sounded from his throat.

“How conscious is he?” He recognized that voice…

“He comes and goes.” That one too. “He woke up completely once last night, just long enough to ask where Laserbeak was. He’s been in and out ever since.”

“He obviously sees the light, that’s somethin’ at least.” Last time he’d heard that voice, he had been on the _Nemesis…_ the room had been dark…

“Will he remember what happened?” Ohhh _that_ voice. The arctic. Joy.

“We won’t know until he comes too.” The first voice said. Why couldn’t he remember their names?

“He’s been trying to stay conscious for a while now.” The light disappeared, “Give him time.”

There was a soft squeaking sound coming from his left. Familiar. Strangely, it did not provoke any feelings of annoyance. Instead Starscream could feel an odd surge of protectiveness pulse through his spark.

He tried to open his optics, only to cringe at the sickening assault of light and color. His tanks rolled, but there was nothing in them to purge. Everything hurt.

“Is he in pain?” There was a deep rumbling voice. It also brought to mind images of the arctic, but Starscream couldn’t quite put his digit on why.

_Yes I am, thank you for asking._

“I have pain inhibitors at the ready, but I’m hesitant to use them until he wakes up, in case there is anything hurting him more than it should be.”

The familiar something squeaked again, and Starscream was aware of something small and warm butting lightly against the side of his helm. His left optic slowly pried itself open, just enough to see a flash of dusky blue plating.

Laserbeak chirped at him, noting the sliver of red as Starscream’s optic began to open.

Starscream had to reset his voice box three times before he managed to get it to work. “For such…a resilient…creature…you truly are…pathetic…” His voice rasped in his throat, and his jaw and glossa felt stiff and alien, as if they had forgotten how to move properly.

Laserbeak trilled softly.

“Starscream,” The small amount of relief that Starscream heard in that voice encouraged him to open both optics fully. He blinked until the smears of colors oriented themselves into familiar shapes. Knock Out and Ratchet stood over him, posed and ready to move should immediate action be required.

“Do you know where you are?” Knock Out asked.

Starscream looked around slowly, unable to see much outside of the range of his optics’ movements. Moving his head hurt too much. Just past the two medics, he could see Megatron, Optimus, and Dreadwing waiting for news. Off to his right he could see the rest of the Autobots. The bright glare of Bumblebee’s yellow plating caused his tanks to roll dryly again.

“Considering…we are not…on the _Nemesis…”_ He rasped out, “And that there are…Autobots…everywhere…I’m assuming it is…their base…” _Primus_ that hurt.

“You should try not to talk too much.” Ratchet noted. “Yes or no questions, blink once for yes, twice for no. Do you know his name?” Ratchet pointed toward Knock Out.

Starscream blinked, begrudgingly relieved that the Autobot medic was not requiring him to speak.

“Good. Do you remember my name?”

One blink.

“Do you remember what happened?”

A flash of Insecticon denta, a dark forest, _Airachnid._ One blink.

“Are you in any pain?” Knock Out asked.

Starscream fixed him with the best glare he could muster at the moment. One blink.

_Obviously._

“Is there any part of you that is hurting worse than the others?”

Starscream closed his optics again, trying to sort through the pain signals. He opened his optics and blinked twice.

Both medics nodded slightly. Ratchet moved to the energon lines connected to Starscream and injected the contents of a syringe into them. Starscream gave a small sigh of relief as the pain began to subside almost immediately.

Knock Out couldn’t help but give a small grin, “Welcome back, Heir Commandant.”

Starscream snorted at him, too tired to muster anything else.

“You’re going to be sore for a while, Starscream.” Ratchet activated the scanner on his arm, sweeping it over Starscream’s frame. “Talking might be difficult, but your system will reorient itself quickly to the repairs.”

Starscream looked confused for a moment. Why would talking be difficult? But then he had a flash of a too close Insecticon face, and the echo of sickening pain as something chomped through his jaw. Right… He blinked once to show he understood.

“Don’t push yourself too hard too fast.” Knock Out peered over Ratchet’s shoulder to read the scanner, “You’ll have plenty of time to heal.”

Starscream reset his voice box again, wincing at the crackle of electricity that the action sent tingling through his neck, “Soundwave…?”

The room went quiet. Ratchet and Knock Out exchanged a tense look, neither of them knowing what to say. Behind them, Megatron clenched his fist, his jaw tensing. Optimus shifted ever so slightly on his pedes, and Dreadwing looked at the floor, his optics dimmed. From next to his head, Laserbeak made a distress keening noise.

Starscream pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Airachnid got away…with him.”

“He was gone when I went to look for him.” Megatron said bitterly.

Starscream hissed, the only sound of anger he could make with minimum pain.

“We will find him.” Optimus spoke up from beside Megatron. Starscream looked between them, one optic ridge rising up ever so slightly.

“I’ll explain later.” Knock Out said smoothly, seeing the confused expression. “But you should rest for now.”

Starscream fixed him with an intense gaze, a silent challenge in his optics. Carefully he turned his head to look at Laserbeak, making a small sound of amusement when the minicon lightly fluttered the small stabilizers on his back in greeting. “How is he?”

“Laserbeak was injured, but he will make a full recovery.” Ratchet said. “It will be awhile before he’ll be able to fly, but he’ll be up and about before long.”

“He seems to have grown quite close to you in a very short time.” Dreadwing commented, watching as Laserbeak gently butted against Starscream’s nasal ridge.

Starscream took a breath, determined to speak a fluid sentence. “That happens when you sacrifice an arm for someone.”

“Is that how that happened?” Knock Out asked.

“The beast Airachnid set on me attempted to rip him from my arms.” Starscream rasped, feeling proud that he was able to form fuller sentences. His glossa was beginning to feel more natural in his still stiff jaw, “I secured him in a tree before it could get to him, but the bug tore my arm off when it dragged me back down.”

Arcee looked up, thinking back to the tree she had found Starscream’s arm by. “That explains the claw marks in the bark.” She said, “You know it broke that tree in half.”

“I am aware. It continued to go after Laserbeak while I was bleeding on the ground. I kicked it, and it turned its attention back on me.”

“That’s pretty noble of you, takin’ on an Insecticon to protect the snitch.” Wheeljack spoke up from his spot against the far wall.

Starscream sneered weakly, “Despite what you all think of me, I am not sparkless, and I am capable of thinking of others wellbeing. Death dealt by Airachnid’s hands is not something I would let my worst enemy fall victim to. Or has that been forgotten?” He looked at Arcee, “I seem to recall saving you from her clutches as well.”

Arcee crossed her arms over her chest, looking away from Starscream with a low sound that Bumblebee almost would have called a growl.

‘I think that’s enough socializing for now.” Knock Out peered at the monitors, trying his hardest not to cringe at the outdated technology. “You need to rest, Starscream.”

“Knock Out is right.” Ratchet adjusted one of the energon lines, “It’s better if you can get some sleep without us having to induce stasis. If you’re feeling up to it, we can try to let you drink some energon next time you wake up.”

Starscream nodded carefully, the little energy he had had quickly leaving him. His optics slid closed and he was asleep before he knew it.

For a moment everyone was silent, as if worried one wrong noise would cause chaos to erupt. Laserbeak shifted next to Starscream, his wings minutely adjusting over their blanket supports, then he too settled down to rest.

“We should return to the warship.” Megatron said lowly, “Knock Out, Dreadwing, come.”

“I would like to speak with you, before you go.” Optimus said as Dreadwing turned toward the ground bridge. Knock Out had not moved from Starscream’s side, though Optimus could hear Ratchet speaking to him in a low voice. What he was saying was unclear.

“We can meet at a later time to draw up a draft of our truce, Optimus.” Megatron watched his medic for a moment, as if waiting for him to explode again.

“It is not about our truce.”

Megatron looked at him. Optimus flicked his optics toward Knock Out silently. Megatron rolled his own optics.

“Dreadwing, you and Knock Out are to return to the ship. The Autobots will keep us updated on Starscream’s condition. Continue to monitor for any activity from Airachnid or Silas. The sooner we find Soundwave, the better. I will also need a report on all the resources you found while destroying the _Harbinger._ ”

“Yes, Lord Megatron.” Dreadwing turned to call for Knock Out, but he was already moving toward him.

“Remind me to bring an energon pump next time we come to check on Starscream.” Knock Out said, “He needs to be hooked up to a proper one.”

Ratchet grumbled something that no one could make out, but otherwise did not respond as Dreadwing and Knock Out reopened a bridge to the _Nemesis_ and disappeared.

Optimus waited until the bridge had closed before typing in new coordinates and opening a different bridge.

“Ratchet is in charge until I return.” Was all he said before he gestured for Megatron to follow him through the portal. Megatron raised an optic ridge slightly, but followed without argument.

“What is it?” He asked impatiently as soon as his pedes touched down on hard rock. Optimus had bridged them into a canyon, not unlike the one Megatron had first used dark energon in.

“Do you remember our discussion about the comfort of our soldiers?”

“We just had this conversation yesterday.”

“Then you will understand my disapproval of the way you responded to Knock Out last night.”

Megatron growled, “I do not require or seek your approval of the way I handle my wayward troops.”

“Knock Out is not a ‘wayward troop’, Megatron. You said it yourself; he is grieving. After what happened to Breakdown, it is normal for him to react poorly to seeing Starscream in such a state.”

“He challenged my authority. Called my leadership into question.”

Optimus regarded Megatron with a thoughtful look, “Is that not the kind of freedom you wanted Cybertronians to have? Is that not why you rebelled? To ensure that Cybertronians were free to live their own lives, chose their own paths, and challenge those who claimed to be above them?”

“Do you let your soldiers question your decisions?” Megatron snarled, “You are a Prime. You are their leader. Do you allow them to call your orders into question? Do you allow them to challenge you?”

“Yes.” Optimus said calmly, “I do.”

“Then you waste your leadership.”

“Why? Should they not question the one who may end up ordering them to their deaths? Should they simply allow me to send them into dangerous situations without a second thought? What makes me any better than them? What makes me different?”

“You are a Prime! You are their leader! Have you no pride in your position?! Do you not demand their respect!?”

“Respect cannot be demanded or taken.” Optimus said, calm blue optics meeting Megatron’s raging red ones, “It must be earned.”

Megatron took a threatening step forward, field lashing out in anger, “Are you suggesting that I am lacking as a leader? That I am incapable of _earning_ respect?”

Optimus did not flinch away from the advance, “I am suggesting that you have forgotten the ideals that you first fought for.”

“I expect my soldiers to follow orders!” Megatron snapped, “There is nothing unusual about a leader demanding obedience!” He activated his commlink, “Dreadwing, send a bridge to my coordinates.” He glared at Optimus. “I will run _my_ army the way _I_ see fit. That is the end of this conversation.”

A bridge opened quickly beside them and Megatron turned toward it, eager to escape the conversation before the urge to strike Optimus overwhelmed his rational thinking.

Optimus watched him stride into the vortex, “If you had simply followed orders, if you had been obedient to those who called themselves your leaders, you would still be a nameless miner and gladiator.”

Megatron went very still for a moment, his body held tense. He turned his head slightly, as if he were about to look over his shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. The bridge closed behind him as soon as he disappeared through it.

Optimus sighed and activated his commlink, “Ratchet, I require a ground bridge.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

_System Reboot: Initiated_

_Energon Levels: Low_

_Damage: Critical_

_Status: Operational_

Soundwave slowly became aware of a strange mixture of sounds. Unfamiliar voices, whirring machinery that was not Cybertronian, odd clicks and growls that were definitely bestial.

_Alert: Firewall compromised!_

_Alert: Firewall compromised!_

Energy, cold and lifeless, was feeding into him, creating a loop of data feedback that was uncomfortable at best.

Soundwave turned his visor on, his optics squinting slightly behind it as his vision was restored, though it was distorted from the cracks and scuffs that still filled his visor.

He was most definitely not back on the _Nemesis._ Starscream had failed to get a message to Megatron.

“Look who’s finally decided to join us.”

Soundwave’s spark burned hot with anger. Slowly, calmly, he turned his head to face the voice. Airachnid grinned down at him from her perch on a large stack of energon cubes.

“So nice to see you again, Soundwave. How are you feeling? Sore? You did have a nasty fall.”

The memory of being driven into the ground by a raging Insecticon flashed through Soundwave’s mind.

Soundwave looked away from her, uninterested in her gloating. He had more important things to consider. A quick internal scan informed him that he had been mostly repaired. His leg was reattached, his wounds had been welded closed, and his energon levels had been slightly restored. There was still the pain of hunger, and excess movement hurt, but it was nothing he was not use to.

There were bands of thick metal that bound his arms and legs to the ground. Even if he had been at full strength, he was not escaping any time soon.

And there were cables sticking out of him. Annoyance flickered through his spark at the rough connections they made in the various data ports on his chest.

“How is the download coming?”

Soundwave recognized that voice. Turning his head to the other side, he could see Silas standing next to a wall of computer monitors, his stolen body dwarfing the equipment and the humans working on it.

“I’m almost there, sir.” One of the humans answered, “Airachnid was right, some of the encryptions dropped when he regained consciousness.”

Download? Encryptions? Soundwave turned his attention to the monitors. Decepticon and Autobot codes were starting to scroll across the screens. Irritation swept over him. Were these pitiful creatures really trying to hack him?

Soundwave acknowledged the alert that was flashing through his HUD, giving the silent command to activate extra protection and reroute some of the data to more secure drives. His optics widened behind his visor at the feedback he received.

_Files locked. Unable to relocate._

_Firewalls compromised, signal blocked._

“What’s the matter, Soundwave?” Airachnid asked, her voice sickly sweet, “Are your files refusing to relocate?” She crossed her legs daintily, picking up a rationed cube of energon to drink from, “Sorry, I had to do some tampering. We couldn’t have you hiding anything important now, could we?” She smiled and raised the cube to take a sip.

Soundwave’s digits twitched ever so slightly, but he resisted the urge to clench them into fists. He recognized the information moving across the screens; mundane reports from the _Nemesis_ , gathered intelligence regarding the Autobots.

The portions of the Iacon database that he had been working on.

He couldn’t move it, couldn’t relocate it. The information was being sucked from his drives, and he could not prevent the human cables from reaching it.

Silas was ignoring him, his focus trained on the computers as he watched information he did not yet understand scroll across them. Airachnid was laughing softly as she fixed Soundwave with a predatory gaze.

“You look good like that, Soundwave. At someone else’s mercy, helpless. Oh I’m sure you’re trying to think of a way out of this. But those bonds were able to hold Breakdown, they’ll certainly be able to hold you.” She set her cube down and pushed off from her perch. Soundwave did not turn to look at her as she began to walk over to him, her sharp heel struts clicking against the cement floor.

Airachnid was not one to be ignored.

She moved to stand between him and the computers, kneeling down so she could cup his chin in her servo.

“Poor Soundwave,” She cooed, “What does it feel like to have failed so miserably? All those secrets you’ve kept stored away, and you’re about to hand them over. I didn’t even have to torture you. Believe me, I wanted to.” She stroked her thumb over his mask, where she assumed his mouth would be. “But Silas wants you in one piece.” She gave a small disappointed sigh, “No matter. I’ll find a way to have some fun with you, don’t worry.” She smirked. “I might have to encourage you to finish decoding the Iacon database for us after all.”

Soundwave’s spark pulsed with anger. The very idea that he would do anything for her was enough to make him grit his denta behind his mask.

He could hear the humans typing away at the computers. Working over _his_ information, trying to decipher _his_ code.

Maybe hiding the information wasn’t an option, but there were other ways to prevent others from getting to it.

Soundwave tilted his head just so, leveling his optics with Airachnid’s. His screen lit up, the colors warped and the image filled with static, but the bright smiley face was unmistakable. Behind Airachnid, the computers began to beep frantically, their screens going red as glyphs scrolled over them so quickly that they blurred. The humans yelled out in shock, frantically trying to figure out what was happening with their equipment.

“What is happening!?” Silas roared, glaring angrily at Airachnid.

Airachnid’s optics widened, her gaze locked on Soundwave’s visor. Behind the mask, where she could not see, Soundwave allowed himself to grin. He knew that emergency self-destruct code would come in handy one day.

All at once the monitors went dark. The data drained from their screens, the screens went black, and the computers began to smoke as their hard drives fried under the heavy electrical current Soundwave had pumped back through the attached cables.

“Airachnid!” Silas growled, “What did he do!?”

Airachnid began to laugh. She took Soundwave’s face between her servos, her optics glowing brightly. “How very clever, Soundwave! I knew you would be a challenge!”

“What happened!?”

“Soundwave erased his own drives. We won’t be getting any information from him this way.” Airachnid moved one servo from Soundwave’s head, reaching down to carelessly yank the cables from his chest.

Silas stalked toward her angrily, “You told me he would be useful! So far all he has done is drained our resources and consumed our energon!”

Airachnid hummed thoughtfully. Silas snarled, enraged by the non-answer.

“You’ve had your chance, we do this my way. Kill him, now! We can put another soldier into him. If he cannot be useful in this form, we will use him the way we used Breakdown.”

Soundwave did not flinch. If they killed him, they would lose all chance of getting any information from him. He was prepared to die.

Airachnid tilted her head, her smirk gone, replaced by a thoughtful expression. Slowly, almost gently, she stroked her digits down the side of Soundwave’s head. “No. There are other ways to make him useful.”

“Airachnid!”

“You can put another soldier into him, Silas. But if you do that, you will lose the skills that Soundwave has. He is a spy, accustomed to how his own body works, familiar with all of his own abilities. We can lose that to gain a cooperative soldier in the form of a human in a Cybertronian suit, or,” Airachnid stood up, “we can make _him_ cooperative.”

Silas grit his denta, his unrestrained field filled with impatience and anger. “How _exactly_ do you plan on doing that?”

Airachnid smirked again; the smirk Soundwave hated the most. It appeared slowly, curling the left side of her mouth up in a smooth, fluid movement. She turned away, stepping over Soundwave, and walked toward the group of Insecticons resting in the corner of the warehouse.

“Do you know how I manage to control these creatures, Silas?” She said, her tone similar to that of someone asking about the weather.

“I believe you said that you and they were ‘of one mind’.” Silas spat between gritted denta. “What does that matter?”

“Insecticons are not mindless. They have the ability to think, to rationalize, to problem solve.” She stroked over the head of one Insecticon, “Well. Most of them. So how do I keep something so large and unpredictable under my control?”

“I grow tired of your riddles, Airachnid.”

Soundwave turned to watch her, a theory already growing.

“During the early stages of the war, a scientist named Shockwave began experimenting with several…let’s call them _taboo_ , practices; CNA mutation, gene splicing, and one that the Council had been attempting to work with at the time.” She looked over her shoulder, locking her optics on Soundwave’s visor, “Slave coding.”

Soundwave’s optics narrowed. He forced himself to remain still, to not show the anger and mild fear that was beginning to grow within him.

Silas’ impatience began to ebb. “This sounds promising.”

“A simple code, small and easily uploaded into a victim, which inserts itself into the basic coding that control free movement and thought. The code carrier would continue to be themselves; they could walk, talk, socialize as they would normally, until the code is activated, normally by the voice of the code master. Once activated, the code would take over, and force the code carrier to follow whatever orders have been given.” Airachnid scratched gently behind the Insecticon’s audio receiver, still watching Soundwave, “Shockwave uploaded it into the Insecticons, in an attempt to give Megatron easily controlled muscle. Megatron refused, and ordered Shockwave to destroy the code. Luckily, I got into the lab before he was able to.”

“And you became the code master.” Silas grinned, turning his gaze to the prone spy. “It will work on him?”

“It will work on any Cybertronian it is uploaded into.”

“How is it done?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Airachnid turned back to her Insecticon, “Come here.” She cooed softly, “Follow me.” She walked backward, leading the way as the lumbering Insecticon followed after her.

Soundwave yanked against the bonds holding him down. Pain shot up his arms, white hot and sharp, but he continued to pull as fury began to build inside him. She wouldn’t dare!

Airachnid knelt down and picked up one the cables that had previously connected Soundwave to the human computers. Humming pleasantly, she reconnected one end to Soundwave’s exposed data port then turned to her pet. The Insecticon obediently lowered its head so she could reach the data port on the back of its neck. She plugged the cable in and gave the order.

Soundwave felt the code come down the line. Frantically he tried to strengthen his firewalls. He sent alerts and warnings and notices as quickly as he could, attempting to get them to block the sickening invention from his system. Each time his systems pinged back with confusion.

_No threat detected._

He tried again.

_No threat detected._

And again. Each time was the same.

The code settled into his system seamlessly, all while posing no threat. He should not have been surprised, Shockwave was very good at what he did.

He felt it the instant the code integrated itself with his system. There was a sudden empty space in his very being, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It was the odd, annoying feeling that there was something he needed to do, something he was waiting for, but he could not figure out what. Anticipation. A craving to be ordered, to be made useful.

Soundwave felt sick.

“There,” Airachnid’s voice washed over him. The code latched onto it instantly, tagging the sound with the highest priority markings. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

Soundwave closed his optics behind his visor, forcing himself to vent evenly. He would not let her break him. Not now.

“How very interesting.” Silas grinned. “He still required repairs. You let your pets have a little too much fun with him.”

“Control only goes so far.” Airachnid said, uncaring of Soundwave’s injuries.

“Yes, well, you promised me multiple soldiers. The only one you have managed to bring me is unusable at this moment. It is time you made good on your end of the deal. I want another soldier. One who is more capable of taking damage.”

“Don’t worry, Silas.” Airachnid purred, watching Soundwave, her optics bright with triumph, “I know just who to bring you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is being uploaded so much later in the day than normal, sorry about that!  
> It's just after 11 here and I'm exhausted, so I didn't proof read this very well; sorry in advance for any horrible spelling/grammar mistakes, I'll fix them tomorrow.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos! I know I don't reply to all the comments I get, but I want you all to know that I grin like an idiot for like an hour after I read each one. They're highly appreciated!

Compared to the first three days following Soundwave’s disappearance, the following days were slow and uneventful.

Both the Autobots and the Decepticons were monitoring the country, waiting for any sign of MECH activity. There were none. Not even Agent Fowler, who was normally the first to know, had any news to report.

Dreadwing informed Megatron that during the destruction of the _Harbinger,_ they had found unprocessed red energon, various medical and scientific tools, and a mostly intact t-cog, which they assumed had belonged to the dead Starscream clone that one Vehicon had described as “creepy”. The energon was moved to storage, the clone was stripped for parts, and the t-cog was handed to Knock Out to be put to later use. All of the tools were handed over to Ratchet, at Knock Out’s insistence. Dreadwing had been shocked by the act of kindness, but Knock Out had scoffed.

“If he’s going to be working with me, he’s going to need proper tools.”

Bulkhead was given orders never to touch them.

Wheeljack had finished his energon count quickly, and he, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen had made a trip onto the ship to collect their new share of the energon. Though Dreadwing disapproved, he ensured that no fighting broke out between the two factions.

Starscream was now able to take small amounts of medical grade energon, and he was capable of moving all of his limbs; though most of the movements were nothing but small twitches. Regardless, both medics seemed pleased with the beginnings of his recovery.

Knock Out was doing everything he could to ignore Megatron. He spoke to him only when he had to, and any reports that did not require his presence when delivered were given to Megatron by Dreadwing or a Vehicon. The Vehicons always looked confused as they handed the reports over. Dreadwing always looked uncomfortable.

Optimus and Megatron had met several times to begin the official write up of the truce. Optimus never attempted to bring up the conversation they had had in the canyon, but Megatron couldn’t get it out of his head.

It was driving him mad.

How could he fault his medic when every argument he had was countered by the imaginary Prime that had taken residence inside his head?

_Is that not why you rebelled? To ensure Cybertronians had the freedom to challenge those who claimed to be above them?_

Megatron tried to push the conversation aside. This was not about day to day life on Cybertron. This was war. His troops were expected to follow his orders.

_If you had simply followed orders, if you had been obedient to those who called themselves your leaders, you would still be a nameless miner and gladiator._

With Optimus always in his head, Megatron could not bring himself to punish Knock Out for his insolence. He could barely bring himself to be bothered by it. At least Knock Out was still doing his job.

Still, something had to be done. Knock Out’s attitude was not going unnoticed by the rest of the warship, and the Vehicons were beginning to talk.

Megatron sighed, rubbing his forehead. It had been four days. He needed to handle this, even if he had to take a different approach to it.

He was standing on the bridge, listening to the quiet sounds of the Vehicons typing away at their monitors. Dreadwing was scheduled to return from an energon mine very soon, and Knock Out was expected back from the Autobot base any moment. The bridge seemed very empty without Soundwave standing at the front.

“Commander Dreadwing is coming back, sir.” One Vehicon spoke up, breaking the silence of the room. He opened a ground bridge quickly, and Dreadwing stepped through.

“There is a large supply of energon ready for pick up, Lord Megatron.” He said the moment he was clear of the swirling vortex. “The crew is working extremely efficient today.”

“That is good to hear.” Megatron said, almost absentmindedly.

“Has Knock Out returned?”

“Not yet. I expect him back soon.”

Dreadwing nodded. Megatron pretended not to noticed the small amount of disappointment in his SIC’s field.

“We’ve just received a message from the Autobots.” The same Vehicon looked up from his monitor, “They’re sending Knock Out through now.”

Everyone shifted and moved aside, clearing a space in the main part of the room so that a ground bridge could be opened safely. A new bridge opened, and Knock Out strode through, his attention trained on the data pad in his servos. He was looking much more lively; his finish had gone back to being expertly polished and free of scratches, his optics were bright, and his usual confident stride, which had previously been replaced with an angry (though still strangely elegant) glide, had returned.

Dreadwing moved forward to greet him, his field warm and open. “How is he?”

Knock Out looked up at him, a satisfied smile on his face, “He had a five minutes argument full of sarcasm and disdain with Ratchet. I would say he’s feeling much better today.”

“What were they arguing about?”

“The state of the warming blankets Ratchet was trying to give him.”

Dreadwing chuckled, “That does sound like Starscream. How is Laserbeak?”

“He’s doing even better. He’s attempting to move around on his own now.” Knock Out looked back at the data pad long enough to sign it. He moved past Dreadwing, toward Megatron. His field drew in closer to his body, and his smile turned cold. The data pad was handed to Megatron silently, and Knock Out turned away the moment that it was in Megatron’s servo.

“Wait.”

Knock Out paused when Megatron spoke.

“There is something we need to discuss.” Megatron looked at Dreadwing and the Vehicons, “Leave us.”

The Vehicons hesitated, exchanging glances with each other before they walked out quietly.

“Lord Megatron,” Dreadwing lingered, “Perhaps the three of us-”

“Leave, Dreadwing. That is an order.”

Dreadwing looked at Knock Out, who took a breath and nodded before half turning to face Megatron. Dreadwing gave a small bow, pulling his field in tight before any emotions could be revealed, and left. The door slid shut behind him, leaving Megatron and Knock Out alone.

Megatron tucked the data pad into his subspace, motioning for Knock Out to follow him as he made his way toward the very front of the bridge. Knock Out followed, keeping a noticeable distance between them as he did.

Megatron stopped, his arms folded behind his back. He watched the clouds float past the windows for a moment, trying to decide exactly what he wanted to say. Knock Out stayed silent. Finally, Megatron turned to face him.

“Whatever you have to say, say it now.”

Knock Out looked genuinely surprised. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I know you are displeased with some of my decisions.” Megatron said calmly, “I have heard what some of the others are saying. I have had enough of the background plotting and whispered unrest. So if you have a grievance, make it known, now, so that we can move on.”

Knock Out paused, watching Megatron’s face. The warlord seemed calm, and he wasn’t sure if that should make him more or less wary of the situation. He figured he could just play dumb, pretend he didn’t know what Megatron was talking about and escape quickly. Then again, Megatron wouldn’t have taken the time to make a private meeting if he wasn’t truly aware of some of the things Knock Out had said. As dangerous as it could be, honesty seemed the best way to go.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What have you heard?”

“You disapprove of my decision to keep Starscream in the Autobot base, you made that quiet clear. I have heard whisperings about your displeasure about the way I handled Airachnid, but only whispers. I assume there is more. So here is your chance; get it off your chest.”

Again, Knock Out hesitated. He was angry, true, but he wasn’t suicidal. Insulting Megatron was never a smart move. But…he was asking for it…he was the one who wanted to know…

Knock Out steeled himself. Fine. He could be honest.

“Let’s start from the beginning. You abandoned Breakdown when he was taken. You knew he had been captured, and we could have found him easily. But you _left_ him, all because you decided he didn’t deserve to be rescued. He trusted you as his leader, and you left him to die.”

 _Trust is much like respect._ The Prime in Megatron’s head whispered. _You have to earn it. You earned his trust, and betrayed it._

Megatron growled before he can stop himself. He didn’t miss the way Knock Out twitched, like he was forcing himself not to step away. Megatron took a breath, shooing the voice out his mind. “Continue.”

Knock Out’s optic ridge quirked up marginally. His voice was colder than ice, “You sent Starscream out with Airachnid. You _knew_ what she was like, you _knew_ that she enjoys causing others trouble, and you sent Starscream out with her, and when he didn’t come back, you never tried to look for him. It’s your fault he’s hurt now. If he hadn’t been out there, he never would have met with Silas, he never would have lost his t-cog, and he never would have gotten attacked by that Insecticon.”

Megatron didn’t need the imaginary Prime this time. He motioned with his servo for Knock Out to keep going.

“You sent Dreadwing and Breakdown out to kill Airachnid, something you could have done yourself. In fact, you could have done it here, on the _Nemesis,_ and neither of them would have been in danger. But you sent two of your troops out to do your dirty work, like some mob leader from Altihex. Your orders got Breakdown killed, and you act like you don’t even notice he’s missing.” Knock Out scoffed, “I guess you did get a replacement, right? Those Insecticons provided any extra muscle you might have needed. That’s all he was to you, right? A walking wall of muscle.”

This time, Megatron frowned. His lips pressed together in a thin line, and the corners of his mouth twitched downwards just enough to be noticeable.

_You did call him an oaf…_

_SHUT. UP._

“Anything else?”

“Yes. You show a complete lack of disregard to anyone else but Soundwave. I failed to retrieve the relic from the subway, and you were angry. Fine. But I got _hit_ by a _train._ I was injured, I needed repairs, and you had me polishing Soundwave’s visor for some petty, disciplinary task! You ridiculed Starscream, endanger your troops far more than the war necessitates, and Primus forbid anyone speaks out about it, unless they want to end up in my medical bay!”

Megatron inhaled slowly. He could handle this. He could have a civil conversation with one of his officers.

“I left Breakdown behind because, at that time, I did not consider the humans a threat. The very fact that he had been taken by them was laughable. Did you not, upon his return, tease him about his capture yourself, doctor?” Megatron didn’t miss the way Knock Out’s servo attempted to curl into a fist, but he also did not apologize. He was being honest, even if it wasn’t what Knock Out wanted to hear. “Truthfully, I had assumed he would free himself and return to us quickly.”

“He did free himself. And you still treated him like scrap.”

“He did _not_ free himself. Did you honestly think Starscream could keep that piece of information secret? I am well aware of the fact that he took a small group of Eradicons out that night in order to find Breakdown. ”

Knock Out clenched his jaw.

“I thought the humans were weak, and did not believe that any Decepticon who was captured by them deserved a place in my army. Obviously, I under estimated that group of humans.”

Knock Out’s optics narrowed slightly in confusion. Was that some sort of apology?

“As for his death. I sent Dreadwing to kill Airachnid, yes. If I had done it myself, she would have known instantly that I was planning something. Sending Dreadwing, who followed her orders, was supposed to help reduce the chances of Airachnid catching on to my intentions. I did not order him to take Breakdown, I told him to take back up. Dreadwing could have just as easily have chosen you, or any number of the Vehicons.”

“Are you trying to blame Dreadwing for-”

“No, Knock Out.” Megatron cut him off, “I am saying that Breakdown’s death can only be blamed on the one who killed him. We did attempt to recover his body, but MECH had gotten there before we did. Though, we did not know it was them at the time.”

“You act like you don’t care he’s gone!”

“Just because I do not grieve, does not mean I do not notice his absence. I gave you that Insecticon as a way of supplying you with extra muscle. The intention was not to replace Breakdown, the intention was to fill a part of the void he left. You needed the back up; that is what I gave you. Nothing more.”

Knock Out did ball his fists this time. Irritation flickered through his tightly held field.

“As for your injuries.” Megatron paused, his optics locked with Knock Out’s. He was quiet for a long time as he went over the night of the relic hunt. “You are not a fighter, not like Breakdown, or Dreadwing. You were not built to take heavy damage. That is why I sent the Insecticon with you in the first place, to prevent you from having to face it. My orders after your return were given in rage.”

Knock Out’s optics widened, his fists relaxing again. He blinked once, anger momentarily forgotten in the face of Megatron’s odd apology. “What about Starscream?”

Megatron inhaled slowly, exventing in a low growl. “Starscream is not as simple a case as you would like to make him into.”

“I’m not asking to know about your complete history with him.” Knock Out huffed, irritation returning, “I want to know about _this._ I want to know why you sent him out with Airachnid. I want to know why you _trusted_ her not to try anything. I want to know why you _left him out there!_ ”

Megatron let his servos fall from their place behind his back down to his sides. He looked down at his medic, optics flashing with suppressed annoyance. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but was cut off by the warning chime of an incoming transmission.

“This is Autobot outpost Omega-1!” Ratchet’s voice filtered through the speakers, the urgency in his voice drawing both of the Decepticon’s attention away from each other, “Megatron, respond!”

Megatron walked quickly over to the monitor, hitting the button so he could reply. “What’s the problem, doctor?”

“Optimus went out on a patrol. His signal just went dead, and I can’t contact him over the commlink system.”

Megatron stiffened, “What about the others?”

“Wheeljack and Bumblebee are in that mine in Russia, with your Vehicons. Their signals are scrambled, I can’t reach them. And Arcee and Smokescreen went scouting after an energy surge outside our communication range.”

“I can help, Ratch!” Bulkhead’s voice, sounding quieter, farther away from the monitors, broke through.

“You are not cleared for duty!” Ratchet snapped, “And I will not send you back out there just to set your recovery back even farther! Megatron, this was too sudden. We were in the middle of a conversation when he cut out. I don’t have anyone else to call.”

“Send me his last known coordinates.” Megatron growled, “Now.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus knew the second the link between he and Ratchet died that something was wrong. The standard patrol around the outskirts of Jasper did not take him outside of communication range, and he highly doubted that there was another scraplet attack back at base. He knew who had to be involved.

He could not turn around and attempt to drive back to base; if the possible attackers followed him, he would be putting the others at risk. But staying out in the open was a foolish decision as well. If his assumptions were right, there was going to be a swarm on him any second, and he could not fight off that many Insecticons at once. So, after making sure there were no humans around to witness his defiance of earth street laws, Optimus veered off the road and accelerated, shooting off into the desert. There were canyons and caves he could escape to, less open spaces that he could use to his advantage, so long as he got there fast enough.

Unfortunately, his attackers seemed to know this.

The black helicopter descended from the clouds behind him, the sunlight gleaming off the sharp edges.

Optimus recognized Airachnid’s alt mode easily.

He also recognized the roar of Insecticon wings, which he heard just as he began to draw close to the large plateaus that were meant to serve as a defense. Instead, they turned into a danger as Insecticons began to fly from the tops, and emerge from their hiding places along the sides. Optimus hit the brakes and turned sharply, his tires kicking up dirt and sand and he turned sharply away from the plateaus and roared off in a different direction.

A small amount of fear trickled through his spark, not for himself, but for the rest of his troops.

 _Without access to a ground bridge, there is no way that Airachnid could have transported them here upon spotting me. They had to have been waiting for someone to come by. How long has she been planning this?_ If Airachnid had enough patience to set up a trap that could have taken days or weeks to set off, then there was no place they could truly consider safe.

The Insecticons followed him, their numbers forming a large black cloud behind him. Airachnid kept watch from above, following in the chase to ensure that Optimus’ communications remained blocked.

 _You cannot destroy him this time._ She silently ordered her army, _Cripple and subdue him. We’ll need him in one piece._

The Insecticons roared out in their unique call, causing a deafening cacophony that echoed through the sky and across the desert, as they flew forward, attention focused on the hunt. Blaster fire rained from the front of the group, all of them aiming at or around the retreating truck.

Optimus barely managed to dodge the shots. His alt mode was not built for sudden, quick swerves, and many of the blasts came dangerously close to hitting their target.

 _I have to disable them somehow._ Optimus thought, mentally gritting his denta as a particularly harsh turn almost sent him fishtailing. He trained his mirrors up, past the swarm of Insecticons that were starting to draw closer, to Airachnid. _When she was in our custody, the Insecticons followed Megatron’s orders. It would stand to reason that removing her would stop their attack, or at the very least leave them in a more persuadable mood._

There was not much time. Attacking Airachnid would cost him time he could be using to escape. But he could not outrun them, not forever. This seemed like his best option.

Swerving sharply one last time to avoid a well-aimed shot, Optimus transformed, landing on his pedes and continuing forward at a dead run, his optics trained skyward. His servos transformed into blasters, humming to life as energon fed through them. As soon as Airachnid was in his sights, he fired, sending round after round after her in an attempt to, at the very least, knock her out of the air.

Airachnid dipped and bobbed through the sky, dodging the shots being fired at her.

“How very brave of you, Optimus!” She called, “You might have been able to get away if you had kept driving!” She flew higher as she moved forward, making herself harder to target.

Optimus clenched his jaw behind his mask, “What have you done with Soundwave, Airachnid!?” He had to yell to be heard, the drone from the Insecticons wings was beginning to drown out everything else.

“Don’t worry, Optimus, you’ll find out very soon. You might say he and the Insecticons have found a _common mindset.”_

Optimus’ optics narrowed. What was that supposed to mean? Unfortunately he didn’t have time to try to make sense of her riddles, as a loud Insecticon screech from his left alerted him that his time had run out.

Turning swiftly as he ran, Optimus lowered his blasters and fired, both shots landing directly in the Insecticon’s face. It let out a pained squeal, jerking to one side to avoid being shot again. One optic was dark now, energon spilling from the wound like a river of tears. Optimus fired again, aiming for the Insecticons that were closing in on him. He continued to aim for their optics, knowing that the rest of their bodies were more heavily armored against attacks.

If he wanted to get out of this alive, he was going to have to exploit any weakness he could.

 _Move quickly, do not linger._ Optimus felt as if he were facing Unicron’s personifications all over again; numerous bodies that could easily surround him, almost impossible to completely destroy…he had his work cut out for him.

One Insecticon transformed, dropping down in front of him with a rumbling snarl. Optimus exchanged one blaster for a blade, swinging up at the same time the Insecticon swung at him with deadly claws. The blade sliced through the beast’s palm, splashing both of them with energon as it spurted from the wound. A pained warble rolled from the Insecticon’s throat, quickly turning into a rumble of rage. Optimus jumped back as it swung again, firing a shot at an Insecticon approaching from his right.

They were not all attacking at once, as he feared they were going to. Instead they were swarming around him, leaving a small handful to face him at a time. Optimus could see a pattern forming in their flight; they were starting to circle him, forming a dark, roaring cage for him to fight in, trapping him with the Insecticon currently facing him.

The Insecticon leapt at him, both servos reaching out to slash and grab. Optimus dove to the side, executing a fluid tuck-and-roll before popping back up on his feet, blaster firing as he stood.

Pained yowling, he had managed to shoot it in the face. Taking advantage of the opening, Optimus rushed forward as the beast rubbed at its face. His blade buried itself deep within its neck, and with a sharp pull, sliced out one side. Energon spurted from the cut lines and the Insecticon made a horrible gurgling sound, staggering away from the assault. Optimus watched as it fell back, its body convulsing as it bled out.

He had no time to celebrate his victory. Two more Insecticons separated themselves from the rest, landing on either side of him. Loud growls rumbled from their chests. Optimus watched them carefully, posed to move away from their attacks. They began to circle him, their claws twitching. One of them snapped in his direction, a rough hiss cutting through the overly loud drone of the others.

 _I cannot kill them all. And I cannot avoid them forever. If I stray too close to the others, it will be easy for them to grab me._ Optimus flicked his optics around the make shift battle ring. There was not much space to work with. He had enough space to jump to the side, but only from the center. Anywhere else was asking for trouble.

The Insecticons charged; one from his front left, the other from his back right side. Optimus waited, watching as they closed the distance. Just as the one in front of him swiped at him, Optimus jumped to the side, rolling once more to avoid injury. A loud crash of colliding metal followed by angry shrieks told him that his attackers had managed to strike each other.

They turned back to Optimus quickly, hissing and snarling.

Optimus raised his weapons, narrowing his optics in an effort to protect them from the sand that was being kicked up.

They moved together this time, a large wall of fangs and claws, leaving no room for Optimus to move around them. It was fight or die.

Optimus changed his remaining blaster into a blade, holding both at the ready. All three of them tensed, poised for battle.

The purple blaster fire from above distracted all of them.

The living cage that trapped Optimus with his opponents scattered, outraged screeches echoing across the land. Looking in between the Insecticons, Optimus could see Airachnid hovering, observing the battle.

“Optimus!”

Optimus looked away from the helicopter, optics locking on the streak of silver that was Megatron.

“Run you idiot!” Megatron blasted an Insecticon that had foolishly tried to attack him head on, turning sharply in the air to avoid a second one. “Get out of Airachnid’s range!”

Optimus looked at the two Insecticons that he had been about to fight. Both of them were watching their fellow hive members scatter, seemingly conflicted about who to attack. Optimus did not wait to find out their decision. He turned on his heel and transformed, his tires spinning in the dirt as he hit the gas.

He kept his mirrors trained on the sky, watching Megatron spiral through the air, effortless avoiding the Insecticons as he began to shift his attention to Airachnid.

 _He is faster than her._ Optimus observed. _Faster than her Insecticons. He is attempting to chase her off._

It seemed to be working. Airachnid withdrew, moving higher into the sky, but it was clear that she was not finished. She disappeared behind the clouds. Her Insecticons did not.

Megatron was forced to execute a maneuver that Optimus was sure had to have left him dizzy to avoid a head on collision with three separate bugs. His canyon began firing at a constant rate, targeting any and all Insecticons even remotely near him.

Optimus attempted to contact Ratchet, repeating the command to comm him each time he was met with static. Airachnid was retreating, her scrambler had to be losing strength. He just had to keep trying…

“Optimus!?” Ratchet’s voice suddenly broke through the static, “Your signal just reappeared! What’s happening!?”

“We require an emergency bridge, Ratchet, lock onto my coordinates and- ARGH!” Optimus didn’t even see the Insecticon before it struck him, barreling into his side with all its might.

Optimus rolled; the glass of his windows cracking and the tips of his smokestacks crumpling uncomfortably.

“ _Optimus!”_

He transformed, curling his arms over his face and head to protect them from the rocks he was bouncing over. A large boulder stopped him with a jarring thud, all of the air leaving his vents at the moment he collided with it. Shaking his head in an attempt to get his bearings, Optimus pushed himself up.

A wild screech grabbed his attention, his head shooting up just in time to see the Insecticon that had body slammed him pounce. Optimus rolled out of the way, landing on his back and watching as the beast pounced on the boulder instead. It used the momentum to launch itself in his direction again. Optimus drew his legs up as the Insecticon landed over him, then pushed out. His pedes connected solidly against its chest, kicking it back.

Except that it didn’t go easily. Optimus roared in pain as sharp claws dug into his right leg, tearing the tires there to shreds and peeling back the blue plating. They caught in the raised cuff that made up his ankle, ripping the metal from the joint.

“Optimus!” Megatron yelled out. He blasted through an Insecticon and rocketed forward, heading straight for the injured Prime.

Optimus kicked the Insecticon again, his pede bending one of its mandibles. It recoiled back with an agony filled howl, only to fall silent a moment later when its head disappeared in a flash of purple fire.

Megatron transformed, landing heavily next to Optimus and dropping to one knee.

“ _Somebody tell me what is happening!”_ Ratchet shouted over the commlink. Megatron and Optimus both looked up as all of the Insecticons began to roar at once, the entire swarm was coming together, heading in their direction.

“Open a ground bridge!” Megatron shouted, “ _Now!”_ Ignoring Optimus’ protests, the warlord scooped him into his arms, one arm under his knees and one around his back, before straightening up and running toward the vortex of green that had suddenly appeared.

“I can run!” Optimus yelled, “This is slowing you down!” He looked back over Megatron’s shoulder, seeing the Insecticons drawing closer.

Megatron only tightened his grip around Optimus, his pedes thundering across the earth. Blaster fire from behind sent prickly heat up the back of his legs, but he ignored it. With a roar of defiance, Megatron stormed into the portal.

He didn’t stop running until the stone Autobot emblem was beneath his pedes once more.

“What happened!?” Ratchet rushed over to them, immediately directing his attention to Optimus’ injury.

“Airachnid set a trap.” Optimus said as calmly as he could with his spark still pounding, ready for battle. “She and her Insecticons were waiting for me.”

“He was surrounded by them when I arrived.” Megatron growled, still holding Optimus in his arms. “One managed to surprise him when he was attempting to retreat.”

“She doesn’t even have a ground bridge!” Bulkhead exclaimed, walking over to check on his leader. His limp was almost gone.

“Which tells us that she has a general idea of our location.” Optimus said gravely. “She could have been waiting for days.” He looked up at Megatron, shifting slightly in his grip in a silent request to be put down. Megatron’s chest vibrated with a silent growl and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

“Bring him to the medical bay.” Ratchet ordered, his immediate worry dispelled. “It looks bad, but it’s a quick repair.”

Megatron followed him to the medical bay, lowering Optimus down when Ratchet indicated a spot to put him.

“You got lucky.” Starscream sneered, “How kind of Lord Megatron to rush to your rescue.”

Megatron ignored him, and Optimus was preoccupied with shifting his leg so that Ratchet could see the worst of the damage. Laserbeak trilled softly, butting lightly against Starscream’s servo in an attempted to regain his attention. Starscream obliged, lifting his right arm so he could stroke over the minicon’s back.

“You will need to take it easy on this leg for a little while.” Ratchet was saying, his welder sparking as he began repairing Optimus’ cut energon lines. “I _mean it._ No jumping off of glaciers and blowing up warships.”

“Yes, Ratchet.” Optimus said meekly, remembering the last time he had been advised against strenuous activity.

“Why did she attack you?” Bulkhead asked, “Why now?”

“I believe she was trying to capture me.” Optimus shifted his leg slightly to expose more of his wound, “The Insecticons only attacked one or two at a time, and she told me that I would soon discover what had happened to Soundwave.”

“Did she say anything else?” Megatron demanded, already envisioning the ways in which he was going to destroy Airachnid.”

“Yes. When I demanded to know what happened, she said that Soundwave and the Insecticons had found a _common mindset._ ” Optimus looked up at Megatron. “I am not sure what she was insinuating.”

Megatron’s optic ridges furrowed in confusion, a deep frown pulling at his mouth.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Bulkhead crossed his arms. “Soundwave hates her, at least from what Knock Out’s said. Her crazy bugs live to serve her. How can he have anything in common with the creatures that act like her slaves?”

Megatron stiffened at the same time Optimus’ optics widened, and Ratchet paused in his work, glancing up at Optimus. Both leaders exchanged a look.

“Is it possible?” Optimus asked softly.

Megatron’s servos curled into fists, his field suddenly razor sharp with all-consuming rage. Ratchet winced at the assault against his field, and Optimus’ frowned, but it did not last long as Megatron drew his field back in.

“You are moving onto the _Nemesis.”_

“We have had this conversation, Megatron. You cannot expect us-“

“ _This changes the argument!”_ Megatron roared, drowning out Optimus’ words. “Having to go through separate channels when help is required wastes precious time! We were lucky this time! If this happens again, we might not be able to move as quickly! If Ratchet had not been monitoring your location, or if I had not been readily available when he called, you could have been taken! The entire point of this truce was to offer additional help and safety while we battled Airachnid and Silas. It is no longer safe for you and your Autobots to remain on this planet. You are moving onto the _Nemesis,_ if I have to drag each and every one of you onto it!”

Silence filled the room after Megatron’s outburst. He met Optimus’ optics challengingly, daring him to argue.

“He has a point, Optimus.” Ratchet said begrudgingly. “Next time, things might not work out.”

Optimus looked down at Ratchet, then over at Bulkhead, who gave a small shrug.

“Whatever you think is best.”

Optimus gave a small nod. “Very well. When the others return, we will begin the process of relocating.”

Megatron gave a sharp nod. “I will go inform the others.” He strode over to the ground bridge controls, inputting the ships coordinates and disappearing into the portal.

“So…what exactly do you all think is happening to Soundwave?” Bulkhead moved closer, looking between Optimus and Ratchet.

“Slave coding.” It was Starscream who answered, his voice soft as he continued to pet Laserbeak. “Soundwave has been infected by slave coding.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“How did you fail to capture them!?” Silas yelled, his voice echoing through the makeshift MECH base.

“Megatron is faster than I am. He is faster that the Insecticons. He immediately targeted me when he arrived. Without me, you lose the Insecticons, and any hope of controlling Soundwave.” Airachnid said calmly, her arms folded over her chest. “We have to plan a little farther ahead if we hope to take Megatron alive.”

Silas took a slow breath, closing his optics as he struggled to regain control.

“I believe you are missing the most interesting part of my report.”

“All I care about is the fact that you have failed to bring me what you promised!”

“The Autobots and Decepticons are working together.” Airachnid repeated, “That is what we need to be considering.”

“Yes, your failed attempts have led them to cooperate.” Silas snapped, “That only makes them stronger!”

“It means they’re desperate.” Airachnid said, “The last time they decided to work together, we were facing a threat far greater than you can even comprehend. We’ve scared them, Silas. That is a victory.”

“It is not a victory until I have them in pieces at my feet!”

“You do not appreciate the art of psychological warfare, do you?” Airachnid examined her digits, seemingly bored with the conversation. “I agree, it would have been very satisfying to have captured Optimus and watched the others crumble without him, but I believe this will be just as entertaining.”

“I am not interested in entertainment!”

“Then you should not be looking for revenge.” She looked up at him, purple optics boring into his yellow ones. “Revenge is supposed to be fun. It is a creative way to destroy someone. If you aren’t willing to allow yourself to enjoy the process, you can’t possible enjoy the final result. I will get you what you want.” Airachnid raised one servo, cutting Silas off before he could snap at her again, “But now you are going to need to be patient. We have Soundwave, and we have your men. We can take whatever you want from whoever you want. Let me handle the others.”

“And why should I trust that you’ll actually get the job done?”

Airachnid smiled, “You don’t have a choice. You can’t do it yourself. You tried to keep up with them once, and look what almost happened to you.”

“At least I was able to escape on my own power.” Silas sneered, “What about you? How did you get free from that stasis pod?”

Airachnid hissed, her smile disappearing. With the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal and a flash of light, Silas suddenly found himself staring at very sharp blades. He held very still as they slowly traced by the sides of his head, ghosting over his vulnerable neck.

“The difference between you and me, Silas, is that I _learn_ from my mistakes.”

Silas narrowed his optics, field filling with unrestrained anger. Airachnid merely smirked; cold and uncaring.

“We will need weapons, Silas. Make yourself useful, and make a list of what you need. Our new delivery boy will be happy to pick them up.” She turned her head slightly, keeping her optics locked on Silas. “Isn’t that right, Soundwave?”

Soundwave stayed silent in his corner. He had been let up that morning, deemed repaired enough to rise. A sharp order from Airachnid left him bound to his spot.

Airachnid lowered her blades from Silas’ face. Silas growled in annoyance before stomping off, his heavy pede steps echoing as he made his way out of their base.

“He throws the most amusing temper tantrums, wouldn’t you agree?” Airachnid asked conversationally as she made her way over to Soundwave. “Let him fixate on a mild set back. I have what I want.” She stood in front of the silent mech, reaching one servo out to cup his chin. “I will have Megatron and the others under my heel, make no mistake, but the revenge really is so much sweeter when you let them think they have a chance.”

Soundwave clenched his jaw as Airachnid stroked her thumb over his mask; a mockery of a lover’s caress.

“How does it feel, Soundwave, to know you’ve been replaced by an Autobot? Megatron doesn’t need you as his little code cracker anymore, he has Optimus now.” She grinned, “Poor, pathetic Soundwave. Do you think he’s even looking for you? He seems so fond of leaving his officers to fend for themselves. First Breakdown, then Starscream, and now you.”

Soundwave refused to respond in any way. He did not so much as twitch.

“Megatron may have attempted to kill me, but he is hardly the first to try. Arcee will have to be disposed of, but the longer it takes me to catch her, the longer I have to plan out her death. That’s almost the best part you know, the planning. It makes me all tingly inside. Now you,” Airachnid took his face in both servos, “You humiliated me, Soundwave. I plan on returning the favor.”

A wicked grin spread across her face. She dropped her servos from his head. “Remove your mask.”

The coding inside Soundwave lit up eagerly.

_Remove the mask. Remove the mask. Remove the mask._

Soundwave ached to move, to lift his arms, unclasp the mask and let it fall from his face. The code overrode every argument he had, every refusal he made.

He refused to give in to it; he was stronger than this code.

A horrible screeching sound filled the room as Soundwave forced his arms to remain motionless, despite the way the code automatically tried to move them. The joints in his shoulders and elbows squealed in protest. The coding begged him to move, to follow orders, _to be good._

Soundwave would rather die.

And the longer he refused, the more Airachnid grinned.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” She murmured gleefully.

It did hurt. The rotors in his shoulders jammed painfully when his arms did not move with them. His arms burned, his joints felt as though they were being pierced with swords. The intensity of the pain grew the longer he ignored the order.

“Enough.” And suddenly the pain was gone; the coding obediently falling silent, leaving Soundwave filled with a dull ache.

Airachnid stepped back from him with a low laugh. “Sleep well, Soundwave. I have a lot planned for you in the morning.”

Soundwave waited until she had retreated from the room before he slowly flexed his digits and shifted his arms. Low pain radiated from his joints as he moved, lingering from the effects of his disobedience. A plan began to form in his mind, and Soundwave fell asleep feeling mildly satisfied with himself.

Airachnid was going to break him.

But Soundwave was going to make her regret it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, this was supposed to be a lot longer, but I've got a lot of homework I'm trying to catch up on, so I had to condense. 
> 
> Eh, it'll just give Chapter 11 more meat.
> 
> Also, Wheeljack took over this chapter, things got out of my control.

To say that the others disagreed with the decision to move onto the _Nemesis_ would be an understatement.

They were dead set against it.

“Are you out of your fragging mind!?”

“Tell me you’re jokin’!”

“We can’t stay in the same place as the ‘cons!”

::I thought you’d already dealt with this.::

“You agree with this Bulk!?”

“Ratchet, talk to him!”

“I agree with him.”

“ _WHAT!?”_

“Look at his leg. That injury was sustained _with back up._ If I had been unable to contact Megatron, or if I hadn’t been watching the monitor like I was, Optimus could have been even more seriously injured. Or worse.” Ratchet looked at Optimus’ injury, worry clearly evident on his face and in his field.

Wheeljack looked at Bulkhead, one optic ridge raised in question.

“I trust Optimus, Jackie. Ratchet’s right, this could have ended very differently… maybe it’s a good idea to move in, at least for a little while.”

“What exactly happened while we were gone?” Smokescreen asked, his attention focused on Optimus’ leg.

“Insecticons.” Ratchet huffed, “Airachnid set a trap.”

“How was she able to do that? She can’t possibly know where the base is! How could she have known were to put it?”

“She’s smart.” Arcee crossed her arms, “She and MECH found Jack and June before; she must have guessed that we were close to the kids.”

“Even still, she was pretty lucky to have predicted Optimus’ patrol route.” Wheeljack huffed, “Still don’t see why we gotta room with the ‘Cons.”

“Jackie…”

“Yeah, yeah…”

::Do you really think this is the best option?:: Bumblebee looked between Ratchet and Optimus.

“As much as it pains me to agree with _Megatron_ of all people,” Ratchet said, “Yes, it’s the safest choice. Given the options.”

“Airachnid may not know where the base is currently, but, as today has demonstrated, it is too dangerous to continue to work separately from out new allies.” Optimus stood up, carefully shifting weight onto his injured side. Ratchet watched him closely, ready to catch him if he stumbled. “I understand your concerns. At this time, it is safer to live aboard the _Nemesis.”_

“I’d rather stay on the _Jackhammer._ ” Wheeljack grumbled.

Bulkhead frowned but remained silent.

Arcee looked at Bumblebee and Smokescreen. The former gave a small, accepting nod; the latter shrugged and looked back at Optimus.

“What are we going to do about the kids?” Arcee asked.

“I believe it would be best if they remained with Agent Fowler and Nurse Darby.”

“What are we going to tell them?” Bulkhead shifted, holding back a wince at the stiffness in his leg, “You know they’re going to ask why they can’t come to the base.”

::Raf will understand the danger, he won’t argue.::

“Neither will Jack.”

Bulkhead and Wheeljack exchanged a look.

“I’m not tellin’ her.” Wheeljack put his servos up, “She’ll be ticked.”

“I can’t keep her from coming, you know how she is.”

“ _I_ will inform Agent Fowler of the situation,” Optimus assured, “And he will keep Miko from doing anything rash.”

A resounding snort echoed through the group. Optimus attempted to look disapproving.

“Agent Fowler and Nurse Darby will be more than enough to ensure Miko stays safe.”

“Whatever you say, chief.” Wheeljack turned toward the hall leading to the berth rooms. “Guess we better start packin’.”

The Autobots watched as Wheeljack walked off down the hall, either not noticing or not caring when no one followed after him.

“What about you?” Arcee looked past Optimus to Starscream, who was lying still with Laserbeak carefully resting on his chest. It couldn’t have been comfortable, he was constantly complaining about how sore he was and how much the welded lines ached, but he voiced no complaints about Laserbeak’s position. “Are you looking forward to moving back in with Megatron?”

“I’m looking forward to having some actual _privacy_.” Starscream snapped at her, unusually aggravated. “This medical bay is far too exposed. Besides, the _Nemesis_ is far safer than this borrowed _hut_ you have all been slumming in.”

Optimus frowned, but did not comment about Starscream’s attitude. He knew where it was coming from, even if Arcee did not.

“I’m going to go help Jackie pack up.” Bulkhead said uneasily, concerned about Wheeljack and unwilling to get stuck listening to an argument between the stressed Seeker and worried two-wheeler. He shifted, his leg resisting the movement at first. It loosened up as he began to walk, and he made it to the berth room much easier than he had in previous days.

Wheeljack was quickly, efficiently, and angrily sorting through the surprisingly numerous mementos he and Bulkhead had collected. He didn’t look up when Bulkhead stepped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Bulkhead didn’t say anything at first, merely watched as Wheeljack packed away a bumper sticker Miko had jokingly gotten him to use as his “angry sign”.

_If you can read this, you’re too close._

“You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?” Bulkhead asked softly, almost dreading the answer.

Wheeljack paused. He looked up silently, observing the way Bulkhead was looking away from him, his optics directed at the floor.

“The _Jackhammer’s_ repaired, right?” Bulkhead continued, “It’s not like you have a lot of ties here…the others don’t know about us, they wouldn’t question it if you left…”

“Bulkhead…”

“I get it…this is hard for you…”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Bulk.” Wheeljack stood up from where he knelt on the floor.

Bulkhead looked at him, his field pulled in tight.

“There’s no way in the Pit I’m goin’ to leave you like this. You’re still healin’, we’ve got psychos runnin’ around the country, and now we’re all movin’ to the main base of the ‘Cons. I’m charged up about it, Bulk, but I’m not leavin’ because of it.” Wheeljack moved to grab Bulkhead’s servo, tugging him farther into the room. “I’m done runnin’ off just because I don’t agree with somethin’. This might not be the Wreckers, but this is our team now; you’re stuck with me. I’m stayin’ this time.”

Bulkhead squeezed his servo gently, “You worry me when you get like that…”

“Well stop worryin’.” Wheeljack offered a small grin, “You’ll have to kick me out of an airlock to get rid of me now.”

“Heh…” Bulkhead couldn’t help but smile back. “Good to know.” He looked at the boxes Wheeljack had been sorting through, “We won’t be able to take all of that…”

“Yeah, I know. I’m tryin’ to grab stuff we can keep in our subspaces, just in case we have to beat a hasty retreat.” Wheeljack shifted to the side so Bulkhead could move past him to their gathered possessions. “You know we can tell the others, right? I mean, I doubt Ratchet bought our excuse for sharin’ a room in the first place. ‘Savin’ space’.” He snorted.

“Would you be okay with telling them?” Bulkhead sat down on the berth, leaning forward to pick up one of the smaller boxes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We decided in the beginning to keep it secret for safety purposes, right? Besides,” He nonchalantly pulled out a large crystal filled rock he and Miko had found, turning it slowly so he could watch the light reflect off of it, “I’m not the best looking mech, I’d understand if you didn’t want to-“

“Don’t even think of finishin’ that sentence.” Wheeljack said sharply. He marched over to stand in front of Bulkhead, servos planted on his hips, “Yeah, we decided to keep it quiet for security reasons, but don’t even consider the idea that I’d be ashamed of bein’ with you.”

“It’s not a big deal, Jackie; really, I know I’m not all that great looking.”

“And I am?” Wheeljack snorted, “You’re very ruggedly handsome. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Bulkhead chuckled lightly, setting the rock down carefully, “Thanks, Jackie. It’s really not a big deal though, I’m just…I’m feeling a little useless right now.”

“Is Smokescreen makin’ jokes about the Apex Armor again? He’s a good kid, Bulk, but I’ll knock him around a bit if I have to.”

“No, no. Just…I feel like I should be healing faster. Things are getting even more dangerous, and I can’t help. I’m still confined to base, stuck listening to others when they’re in trouble. I want to be out there with you all, I want to be helping!”

“You’re healin’ really well, Bulkhead, even Ratchet is impressed with your progress.” Wheeljack set a servo on his shoulder, “You’ll be back out there causin’ chaos before you know it.”

“I know, I know, I just wish I could be out there now. I feel like I’m just…wasting space right now.”

“Sounds like you’re feelin’ a bit forgotten…” Wheeljack rubbed his thumb in a small circle over Bulkhead’s shoulder, his field beginning to dance with mischievous intent.

Bulkhead looked up at him, “Jackie?”

“We got time,” Wheeljack murmured, sliding his servo down Bulkhead’s chest as he slowly lowered himself to his knees. Thick green thighs parted for him instinctively, and the sound of cooling fans kicking on to their lowest setting could be heard. Wheeljack grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to Bulkhead’s stomach as he lifted his other servo to trace gentle digits along the inside of one thigh. “We got some stress to relieve…besides, who knows what the privacy situation is goin’ to be on that ship. We might have to room with Doc. ‘m pretty sure he wouldn’t wanna watch. Let me help you feel better.”

“Wheeljack, we need to pack…” Bulkhead’s optics were brightening with arousal even as he attempted to argue.

“We’ll be ready to go in no time.” Wheeljack pulled back slightly to look up at him, “C’mon Bulk, let me take care of ya.”

Bulkhead didn’t resist when Wheeljack pushed him to lean back on his servos. He let out a small gasp, and his optics flickered when a long trail of wet heat was traced over his interface panel. Digits skillfully wormed their way between armor plates on his legs, plucking and twisting at all the right wires with ease that came from years of practice.

Wheeljack smirked to himself as Bulkhead relaxed under his touch. It was always satisfying to see him loosen up. He shifted a bit between spread thighs, careful not to push them too far apart and aggravate the injuries. Being responsible for setting back Bulkhead’s recovery because of a rookie ‘facin’ mistake was not something Wheeljack wanted. Another slow drag of his glossa across the heated panel in front of him wrung a low moan from Bulkhead, and after moving one servo up to pinch and stroke over the wires in those wide black hips, Wheeljack heard the telltale _snick_ of the panel opening.

Bulkhead’s spike was proportional to the rest of him; big and thick. A black stripe decorated the underside, running from the base to the black, round tip. The rest of it was green, lined with small, almost non-existent ridges that worked wonders inside Wheeljack’s valve. When Wheeljack wrapped one servo around it, a nice gap was left between the tips of his digits and his thumb. It had hurt the first few times they had ‘faced, but _oh_ it had been worth it.

A groan came from above when Wheeljack stroked his servo firmly over the pressurized spike, swiping his thumb over the tip to catch the small, silvery bead of transfluid that was forming. He made several more passes, squeezing his servo around the base so he could listen to Bulkhead’s choked gasps, before he lowered his head.

“Jackie…” Bulkhead’s voice was rough when he quietly groaned, closing his optics to more deeply enjoy the sensation of Wheeljack’s hot glossa lapping over the head of his spike. Wheeljack hummed in response, circling his glossa around the tip before opening his mouth wide and wrapping his lip plates around the length. Bulkhead’s moan rumbled through his chassis, and Wheeljack responded with a moan of his own, the sound vibrating over the spike in his mouth. It drew a gasp from Bulkhead, who straightened up where he sat so he could grip at the edge of the berth.

Wheeljack took as much of the spike into his mouth as he could. There was no way he could fit all of it; he had tried once and they’d _both_ regretted it, but he wrapped his servo around what he couldn’t fit and continued on. He bobbed his head over the spike, glossa dragging along the underside and denta lightly scraping over the ridges on top. Closer to the base, his servo kept a firm pressure as he stroked it over the length, sometimes pulling it up as he drew back to keep the sensations going along the entire spike. A clever twist of his wrist had Bulkhead biting his glossa to keep from shouting out his pleasure.

“Jackie,” He was straining to keep his voice down, the heat of pleasure was buzzing over every circuit in his body, pooling in his groin as he drew closer to overload. “Frag, _Jackie!”_

Wheeljack hummed around him, flicking the tip of his glossa at the sensitive spot just under the head of his spike. Bulkhead didn’t even try to hold back.

He bit his glossa hard to contain his cry, his servos tightening around the edge of the berth in a metal bending grip. The heat around his spike never let up as Wheeljack continued to service him, milking his overload for all he could.

Wheeljack swallowed every drop of transfluid he got, waiting for Bulkhead’s spike to stop twitching before he slowly pulled off with an obscene _pop_ , licking one last time over the tip to catch any remaining transfluid. He wiped his mouth off and sat back on his heels to grin up at Bulkhead.

“Feel better?”

“Heh, you bet…” Bulkhead grinned back. His fans had kicked up to a higher setting, and the constant hum filled the berth room as they relaxed.

“What about you?”

“I can wait.” Wheeljack stood up, pulling a rag from his subspace and offering it to Bulkhead so he could wipe off the oral lubricant Wheeljack had left behind. “You relax, I’ll finish packing.” He moved to turn back to the boxes, but paused. “Hey, Bulk?”

“Yeah, Jackie?” Bulkhead looked up at him.

Wheeljack leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his lips, “I love you.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The move onto the _Nemesis_ went more smoothly than anyone would have expected. Knock Out and Dreadwing requested a bridge into the Autobot base so that they could assist with moving Starscream, and no one brought with them more than they could carry in their subspace. The exception being Ratchet, who brought a fair amount of his tools.

“Because I’m familiar with them.” He’d snapped when someone had tried to point out that Knock Out would most likely have the same tools.

Agent Fowler had been informed of the situation, and while he wasn’t happy about his bots being relocated to the enemy base, he understood the reasoning. Optimus gave him their new frequency, should he need to get a hold of them, and promised he would update him regularly, just in case something happened.

The biggest hurdle during the move had been deciding what to do with the relics.

The polarity gauntlet, the spark extractor, the phase shifter, and the apex armor; all of them hard won, and none of them safe in the hands of the enemy. As much as Optimus wanted to trust Megatron’s word while they worked together, he was not foolish enough to think that bringing them on board was a good idea.

He and Ratchet had discussed it while they had helped each other pack, (it had mostly been Optimus helping Ratchet, as he had very few personal belongings to speak of) and they had eventually decided that bringing them with them, into somewhat familiar territory, was safer than leaving them unattended in the base. If Airachnid and Silas did manage to find it, the last thing they wanted to do was leave an undefended arsenal at their disposal.

So the relics had been split up and hidden within the groups subspaces, where they would remain until otherwise told. Bulkhead was given the gauntlet, Smokescreen was left in charge of the phase shifter (and given very clear instructions _not to use it_ ), Optimus held onto the spark extractor, and Ratchet was handed the apex armor.

They had made sure to keep this conversation away from the prying audio receivers of Starscream and Laserbeak. No one wanted them running to Megatron and twisting this into an assassination attempt.

Finally, after everything was shut down, locked up, and the security system was engaged, they stepped through the portal and onto the _Nemesis._

Megatron was waiting for them, impatiently if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“There are rooms set aside for each of you. My troops will show them to you when you’re ready.” He stepped closer to them, “The wash racks are communal. My troops have been informed of what is going on, and have been told that any fighting between our ranks will not be tolerated.” He cast his gaze to Starscream, “Knock Out, take the patient, and Ratchet, to the medical bay.”

Knock Out nodded once, still not exactly happy with Megatron. He looked at Ratchet. “Come along then, Autobot. I’m sure you’re just _dying_ for the chance to work with real equipment again.” He headed for the door to the bridge. Dreadwing moved to follow, but was called back by Megatron.

Ratchet grumbled something under his breath, but followed after him with Starscream after a reassuring nod from Optimus.

“I’m going with them.” Arcee declared. She didn’t think Knock Out would do anything, but she didn’t trust the Vehicons. She boldly walked out after them without waiting for a response from either Megatron or Optimus. Optimus was fairly certain he could not have stopped her if he’d tried.

“So how far apart did you spread us?” Wheeljack asked, forcing himself not to glare at Dreadwing, who was forcing himself not to glare at Bumblebee.

“You are all in the same hall. In fact, I believe we were able to find rooms for you that are right next to each other. Ratchet is the exception, as there was an extra room next to the medical bay.” Megatron looked at the smaller Wrecker, “Is that satisfactory for you?”

“Let’s wait and see how good the room service is before I answer that.” Wheeljack smirked at him. Bulkhead nudged him lightly, a silent request for him to behave.

“I have a question.” Bulkhead looked at Optimus, trying not to shift when Megatron also directed his attention to him, “About Soundwave. About what Starscream said.”

“That is a conversation that should be held when everyone is present.” Megatron said, before Optimus could reply. “It can wait until morning.”

Optimus gave Megatron a look, not seeing why they needed to wait, but Megatron ignored his questioning gaze.

“If that’s the case, then show us the berths.” Wheeljack stretched his arms up, “It’s gettin’ late.”

“Very well. Dreadwing,” Megatron looked at his second in command, “Show the Autobots where they will be staying.” His tone left no room for argument. Dreadwing gave a small nod and motioned toward the door.

“This way.”

Optimus did not move as the others passed by him, following Dreadwing as a group. Megatron finally met his optics, and with a low growl said, “I do not wish to discuss it at the moment. Soundwave is my officer, and I will discuss his wellbeing with your troops when I am ready to discuss it.”

“I understand that this knowledge must weigh heavily on you, Megatron,” Optimus answered, his voice just as quiet, “But now is not the time to withhold information.”

“I am not withholding information. All I ask is for you to grant me one night to allow this information to sink in before we share what we have learned. I would like to have a plan ready before I inform the others.”

Optimus pulled a deep breath through his vents before nodded slightly. “Only the night. It would be dangerous to have them fight against our foes without knowing the full extent of the risks.”

“I agree completely.” Megatron said, relaxing marginally when he realized there was no argument to be had. “Now, as Wheeljack pointed out, it is getting late.”

“We should rest.” Optimus agreed, “Though, there is more that we should discuss. Sharing a base may lead to complications, and we should be ready to deal with them.”

Megatron’s mouth twitched in a slight smirk. "Very well.” He extended a servo toward the door, “We can talk in my quarters.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The knock on Megatron’s door woke him up at 6:34 am. He growled in annoyance, shifting to the edge of the berth at the same time Optimus began to stir next to him. The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Optimus blinked, fully waking up as he stood up from the berth. Megatron lumbered over to the door, hitting the button so that it slid open almost silently.

“What is it?”

“It’s the human, sir.” A Vehicon said quickly, “Agent Fowler? He just called in for the Autobots.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yes sir. There’s been an attack at a military base. The Insecticon’s are tearing it apart.”

Megatron could feel Optimus’ field brushing against his as the Prime shifted closer, attempting to stay out of sight from the Vehicon. “Anything else?”

“Yes sir.” The Vehicon sounded grim, “He says Soundwave is with them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Little warning for the next chapter: I might not be able to get it out in time next week. I have exams coming up, and my brother is paying a visit, so my time is very limited this week. I will try my hardest to have it ready, but we might have to wait until the week after for an update. Sorry ^^;


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's an extra day late...oops.  
> But it's here! I didn't forget about it!
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments on the last one, and for your patience in waiting for this one, hopefully we can get back to our regularly scheduled weekly update!

The Vehicon had barely finished speaking before Megatron was shoving past him. Optimus followed right behind him, no longer carrying if he was seen in the warlord’s berth room. Both of them took off at a sprint down the hall toward the main bridge. Optimus sent out an emergency ping to his troops as he followed Megatron, not wanting to wait for whatever emergency alarm the _Nemesis_ had to rouse them.

By the time they arrived at their destination, the others had woken up and were only a few steps behind them. Dreadwing and Knock Out were mingled within the Autobots, all of them too focused on the new mission to care about faction at the moment.

“There you are!” Fowler was still up on the monitor, fretfully waiting for them to arrive. “We have a major pest problem over here!”

“Send the coordinates, Agent Fowler.” Optimus said quickly, “And give your men the order to retreat. I do not wish to have any human casualties.”

“Already done. The bugs are tearing the place to pieces, and the final report I got said that Soundwave was in the main building. There are highly classified schematics on experimental weapons being housed on the bases computers!”

“We will handle the situation.”

“Dreadwing, gather the Eradicons and get ready to bridge out. I want you in the sky _now._ Provide cover and take out as many Insecticons as you can. I will focus on catching Soundwave. _”_ Megatron shot a look at Optimus when he felt a small pulse of urgency over his field, then quickly yelled at Dreadwing’s retreating back, “Tell them not to get captured, under any circumstances!”

“The same applies to us.” Optimus said, looking over his Autobots, “No one is to be captured. We will explain when we return, but it is of upmost importance that _none of you_ are taken.”

A Vehicon announced that he was opening a bridge for Dreadwing and the other flies on the top deck.

Megatron punched a button of the main control console, his voice echoing throughout the ship, “I want a squadron of Vehicons in here now!” He ordered, “You will be helping the Autobots on the ground!” He looked at Knock Out, hesitating for a moment as he considered the situation before saying, “Stay here.”

“Ratchet, Bulkhead, remain here. The rest of you, draw their fire, so that Megatron can secure Soundwave.” Optimus’ battle mask snapped into place as a group of Vehicons rushed on to the bridge.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ratchet stepped in front of him, “You aren’t going out there! Not with your injury!”

Optimus looked down at his leg. One of the welds had begun to split during his run to the bridge, allowing energon to slowly ooze from the wound once more. He looked back at Ratchet, who looked like he would be more than happy to wrestle him to the ground if it kept him from going into the fight.

A new ground bridge opened in the room, locked onto the given coordinates.

Optimus gave a small nod, hating the fact that he could not join the others. “Arcee is in charge of ground operations!” He called to the others. “Roll out!”

The Autobots transformed and roared through the vortex, one or two of them squealing their tires against the metal that was so different from their familiar concrete floor.

“Follow the Autobots!” Megatron ordered the Vehicons, who quickly followed them into the portal.

Optimus grabbed Megatron’s arm as he rushed past, his optics hard and his field angry, though his voice was calm. “We should have told them. Allowing them to rush in to danger uninformed was exactly the situation we wanted to avoid.”

Megatron blinked, mildly surprised by the reprimand, but could not afford to spend time arguing. Optimus released his arm as quickly as he had grabbed it and Megatron charged into the portal, transforming and taking to the sky as soon as he was through it.

The base was complete and utter chaos. On the ground, the Autobots and Vehicons were split apart, taking cover behind rubble from destroyed buildings and machines. Arcee could be heard yelling commands for them to move toward the main building, and Megatron could see the bright flashes of yellow and white as the other three Autobots rushed forward. The Vehicons hung back, providing cover until a small path could be cleared through the wave of Insecticons that was swarming them.

In the air, Dreadwing and the Eradicons were weaving their way through clouds of the beasts. The battle cries from the swarm, the sound of high powered engines, both in flight and on the earth, mixed together to echo around the remains of the base. Blaster fire lit up the early morning darkness, providing an odd counter to the flickering flames that rose from the destruction.

It was deafening, overstimulating, and confusing.

If Megatron hadn’t been so overwhelming _angry,_ he would have taken the time to relish in the thrill.

Activating his short range comms, Megatron swooped down toward the main building, noting the large hole that had been smashed in the roof. “Hold them off while I collect Soundwave!”

Several affirmative responses mixed over the frequency, and the Eradicons quickly began to draw the Insecticons fire, distracted them as Megatron flew low over the building. There, crouched off the one side, with cables plugged into human computers, was Soundwave, completely unreactive to the chaos unfolding outside the structure he was in.

Megatron transformed, dropping down through the same hole and landing with a loud _thud_ against the floor. Several cracking sounds could be heard as the concrete buckled under his pedes.

The humans had turned lights on before they had been attacked, and now the few that had not been destroyed by Soundwave’s entrance were flickering in the otherwise dark room. Combined with the eerie glow of purple from pulsing biolights, and the sudden reprieve the walls provide from the noise outside, they made for a foreboding atmosphere.

Soundwave did not react when Megatron landed behind him. The computer screens in front of him flickered, the light outlining Soundwave’s form as he hunched over them.

“Soundwave,” Megatron was curt, holding himself at the ready. There was no telling what orders Airachnid might have given him, “I know what she’s done to you.”

Soundwave twitched, a quick flash of movement that normally would have betrayed a bots intention to turn and attack. But the gesture was aborted, and Soundwave’s arms and legs stiffened minutely, the change almost unnoticeable. Megatron noticed though, he always noticed.

“What orders did she give you?”

The question was met with silence, though there was the tiniest hint of movement as one of Soundwave’s cables attempted to break contact with the computer. Megatron narrowed his optics, watching carefully. If Soundwave had been ordered to pass the coding on to more of them, that would be the way to do it.

“We are going to help you. They will not get away with this.”

Soundwave twitched again, his cables disconnecting from the computers and hurriedly withdrawing into his chest. A low mechanical whine sounded from his legs as he forced them to remain still. Carefully, making sure he maintained control of his movements, Soundwave turned to face Megatron, staying in a low crouched position.

Megatron’s fists clenched at the sight of his TIC. His mask was still a mess of cracks and chips; to the point that Megatron knew the only reason he still wore it was to shield his face from his captors. Criss-crossed scars of silver wound roughly over his frame, evidence of the patch job the humans had given him. Megatron could not remember ever seeing Soundwave in such a condition; not even after the worst fights in the pits.

A small flash of red light drew Megatron’s optics up to a small device attached to the side of Soundwave’s helm.

“She is still commanding you from a distance, to avoid getting caught herself.”

Soundwave nodded once, a slow dip of his helm.

From the small, aborted movements of his legs and arms, Megatron did not need to be told what orders Airachnid was giving now. He shifted his stance, dropping into a more defense position.

“Attack me.”

A small start, pedes scuffed against the concrete as Soundwave forced himself to remain still.

“Attack me,” Megatron repeated, “Let me bring you back.” This was the best option. A one on one fight, just like in the pit; no Insecticons, no Airachnid, no Silas. Megatron had beaten him once, he could do it again. And when he won, he could take Soundwave back to the _Nemesis,_ he could scrub the coding from his system, and they would hunt down those pests; together.

Slowly Soundwave stood to his full height, silently regarding Megatron. Megatron merely nodded; he knew the risks. Soundwave was skilled, fast, and resourceful. But he was also weakened, still healing from his attack, and clearly stressing his systems by disobeying obvious orders. The odds were in Megatron’s favor.

He extended his blade, poised for battle, his gaze level and determined as he looked into Soundwave’s mask.

“Attack me,” He repeated one more time, “That is an order.”

Soundwave pounced.

That was the biggest indication that something was wrong: Soundwave never attacked first. Soundwave waited, he out lasted his opponents by letting them exhaust themselves. He never landed the first blow.

But now, in this broken building, with Airachnid in his audio receiver and Megatron in front of him, he struck quickly, he struck hard; he struck first.

Megatron barely had time to avoid the arm that swung at his head, angled to strike with a sharp armor edge. He threw up his left arm to block the blow, quickly drawing his right arm across his chest to shield it from the cables that attempted to attach there. Shoving the striking arm away, he pressed forward, swinging up with his blade to force Soundwave back. Tiny flecks of energon decorated the deadly tip as it caught a retreating cable.

Soundwave retreated, putting space between them. His cables, now that they were loose once more, were held like poised snakes, ready to strike. Megatron followed him, fully intent on backing Soundwave into a corner. If Soundwave could fight the coding just a little longer, he could give, just a bit, and allow Megatron to do so. Megatron expected him to.

He didn’t.

Soundwave waited for him to lunge forward. Smoothly he pivoted on one pede, ducking Megatron’s blow and spinning past him as Megatron’s movement propelled him forward. Using his momentum, Soundwave drove his elbow into Megatron’s back as he turned. The extra force shoved Megatron off balance, pitching him forward.

In an open arena, or in any place with more space, Megatron could have rolled, quick and fluid, corrected himself, and been back in the fight without trouble. In the small, human built room, the blow sent him crashing into the computers, and through the wall they were placed against. He rolled on his shoulder, landing in a crouch. Quickly he turned to face Soundwave again, peering through the cloud of dust that came from the newly destroyed brick.

Soundwave was gone.

Megatron ran forward, looking up through the hole he had originally entered the room through just in time to see Soundwave’s sleek form disappear to one side.

“Soundwave!” Megatron transformed and rocketed into the sky, prepared to give chase. Just as he spotted Soundwave’s retreating form, an Insecticon blindsided him, crashing into his left side and sending him rolling off course. He let out an outraged yell, shooting away from the attacker so that he could correct his position and fire his cannon straight into the beasts face. The large head exploded under his fire, and the hulking body fell to the earth like a dropped stone. Another bug took its place, roaring in defiance as it attacked.

“Soundwave is getting away, Lord Megatron!” Dreadwing’s voice sounded over Megatron’ comm link, “I am closer to his position, I can catch him!”

“No.” Megatron snarled, diving steeply to avoid another collision with the opposition, “Do not pursue!”

“But Lord Megatron-”

“ _Do not follow him, Dreadwing!”_ the order was roared over their connection. Megatron activated an open channel, repeating the order for everyone to hear, “Do not attempt to catch Soundwave. It is too dangerous.”

“Don’t tell me your most loyal has gone rogue!” Wheeljack snapped over the line. Below the aerial fighting, the Wrecker was currently fighting hand-to-hand with an Insecticon. His swords were drawn, and the thin lines of glowing blue that decorated the beast’s armor were proof of their usefulness. He jumped back to avoid the swinging claws and swung one sword down. The Insecticon roared out as its servo was severed from its arm. “You _want_ to leave him with Airachnid?”

“Soundwave has his reasons for retreating.” Megatron growled. He pulled up, flipping and transforming in the air to land on the back of the Insecticon currently chasing him. One powerful strike with his sword to the back of its neck brought an end to the beast’s life.

Megatron waited until the falling body was closer to the earth before he jumped. A perfectly executed roll bled off his excess momentum, and he came to rest on his pedes, optics turned heavenward in an attempt to spot Soundwave.

A small, dark spot to his left turned up into the clouds and disappeared from sight. A moment later, several Insecticons let out loud cries and the entire Hive began to retreat. Blasters continued to fire at the escaping bugs, but none of them turned to resume the fight. Confused, the Eradicons swooped low and transformed, landing next to the Vehicons and Autobots. Dreadwing followed them, landing heavily on the scorched ground.

All optics turned to Megatron, full of confusion and disbelief.

“Sir,” Dreadwing’s voice was low, “I do not understand…”

“No, you do not.” Megatron stood tense, his fists clenching and unclenching, his optics attempting to bore a hole into a piece of Insecticon armor lying at his pedes. “I will explain everything, to all of you.”

His sword was drawn back into its sheath, and Megatron sent a call to the _Nemesis,_ “Send a bridge.”

Within second a portal appeared before them, and Megatron turned to walk into it without a word. Everyone exchanged a look before following him, their field tense and uncertain.

The uncomfortable silence prevailed even back on the _Nemesis._ Knock Out stood to one side, his optic ridges raised questioningly at Dreadwing. Dreadwing shook his head slightly before turning his gaze back to Megatron. On the other side of the bridge, Bulkhead, Ratchet, and Optimus waited for someone to speak.

“Soundwave escaped?” Optimus finally broke the silence after several long moments of nothing.

“Soundwave fled.” Megatron said, his voice a low rumble. “The moment I left an opening, he fled.”

“And then we left him.” Wheeljack said, matter-of-factly. He strode across the room to stand beside Bulkhead, then faced the warlord once more, his optics more curious than accusing, “Megatron said it was too dangerous to follow him.”

Knock Out scoffed, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. Dreadwing shot him a look, quietly shaking his head again. This was different, there was something going on that none of them were aware of.

“I guess he was right,” Smokescreen spoke up, also watching Megatron with an inquisitive gaze, “Considering how quickly the Insecticons followed after him, anyone who had followed would have been stuck in the swarm.”

“That is not why I ordered you not to pursue.” Megatron glanced up to meet Optimus’ optics. Optimus nodded slightly, and Megatron drew in a deep breath through his vents. “I ordered you all to leave him because the risk of you getting captured during the chase was too great. We cannot afford to lose anyone else.”

The Vehicons murmured quietly amongst themselves for a moment. None of them could remember the last time Megatron had said that about anything.

“What exactly is going on?” Arcee looked between Optimus and Megatron, “You two are hiding something. You know why Soundwave left instead of coming back with us. Why he willingly chose to run.”

“He did not _willingly_ do anything.” Megatron snapped at her, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He drew himself up to his full height, casting his gaze around at everyone present before speaking again. “Soundwave has been infected with slave coding.”

The reactions from the crowd were unsurprising. Most of the Decepticons recoiled in shock, their fields pulling in tight seconds after filling with fear and anger. Dreadwing was the exception; confusion was apparent on his face, but he clearly understood that this situation was anything but good. Knock Out was the embodiment of horrified shock, his arms dropped from their place over his chest, and any trace of accusation left him. He stared at Megatron, optics wide.

“How did she…”

Most of the Autobots were had the same reaction as Dreadwing. Arcee and Bumblebee exchanged a look, neither of them understanding the full impact of Megatron’s statement, but both of them sensing the emotions it provoked. Bulkhead, having heard the same statement from Starscream, was less surprised, but just as anxious for an explanation. Ratchet and Optimus, already knowing what the slave coding meant, looked grim. Wheeljack surprised them all by swearing loudly, looking disgusted.

Smokescreen looked around wildly for a moment, waiting for someone to explain. Finally, unable to stand the tension, he thrust his servo in the air and blurted, “Um…I thought slave coding was a myth?”

All optics turned to him, the room suddenly quiet. Smokescreen’s door wings wilted under the scrutiny, “I just…I mean, I’d heard the stories, but…everyone always said it was a hoax. A scare tactic, that it wasn’t real...”

“It is real, Smokescreen.” Optimus said softly, “The upper caste systems responsible for it did everything in their power to hide its existence.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually fraggin’ _do it!”_ Wheeljack pinched his nasal ridge, his other servo resting on his hip, “Sick _fraggers…”_

“You’ve heard of it?” Bulkhead looked down at him, expression filled with concern.

“I heard rumors.” Wheeljack looked up again, obviously displeased. “I was an engineer before the war, got to hang around with lots of scientists. Some of them started talkin’ one day, about this new project. ‘A project to instill peace’ they called it.” He snorted. “Peace my aft. I thought empurata practices were goin’ too far, then this popped up.”

“What exactly _is_ it?” Smokescreen looked at Optimus.

“It is a code that can be uploaded into a Cybertronian,” Megatron answered, drawing everyone’s attention again. “It was designed to be small, non-threatening, and over powering. Once uploaded into your system, the code imprints on a set voice pattern, and rewrites your response systems so that any and all orders given by the imprinted voice become the highest priority. The ruling caste attempted to spread the code into the lower castes, as a means of controlling the growing tide of rebellion. They were quiet about it. Very few Cybertronians even believed it existed, and it was hard to prove it was there. Even if you were infected with it, you would act as though nothing had changed.”

“So, it…forces you to obey someone?”

“Yes,” Optimus said, “It inserts itself into your base coding, controlling you at the most basic level of your being. It was designed to take away freedom for any who spoke against the caste system.”

“It was what pushed me to become so outspoken,” Megatron added, “I knew I was one of the beings on the list to be uploaded with it. I knew that if I spoke up, loudly and often, about rebelling against the castes, they would not be able to get away with turning me into a slave. People would begin to ask questions, and the Council would not like that.”

“The Council was extremely careful. Even after spending much of my life listening to the Grid, I did not learn about it until after meeting with Megatron.” Optimus said.

::How were they planning on spreading the coding?:: Bumblebee asked, ::It’s not like they could round up everyone in the lower caste and…recode them.::

“They were planning on using medics.” Megatron replied, “They were going to come out with a new plan to ‘offer medical assistance to those in need’, but all the medics sent into the lower caste areas were going to be given orders to upload the code into anyone who came to see them. Soundwave overheard that conversation.”

“They were unable to use it on a wide scale, due to the increasing unrest.” Optimus assured Bumblebee, “By the time they were ready to begin uploading it into the lower castes, they had all grown distrustful of anything offered by the upper castes. Mostly due to Megatronus’ efforts.”

Megatron met Optimus’ gaze. A deep look passed between them.

“How did Airachnid get a hold of it?”

The room went still again as the question everyone wanted the answer to was asked. Megatron resisted the urge to rub his face, fighting back the weariness that was beginning to make itself known.

“She acquired it during the war.” Megatron took a moment to make eye contact with everyone present, knowing that many of them would assume the worst, “Shockwave began experimenting with the coding. He uploaded it into the Insecticons he was working on, and presented them to me as an easily controlled army.” He saw Knock Out’s optics begin to harden again, but the medic restrained himself from sneering in disdain. “I refused to use the code, refused to download the necessary command code. I told him to destroy it, but someone broke into the lab before he could do so. We never discovered who. Now we know.”

“That’s how she controls the Insecticons…” Smokescreen murmured, looking uncomfortable, “And now she has control over Soundwave…”

“And she will not hesitate to use the code to control the rest of us.” Optimus finished, “Which is why we all must be on our guard.”

“Do you think Airachnid ordered Soundwave to retreat?” Dreadwing asked.

Megatron thought back to their brief fight; the aborted movements, the hesitation, “I think Soundwave forced himself to retreat, rather than risk infecting the rest of us.” He moved toward the front of the bridge, brushing past the Autobots and Vehicons. “You are all dismissed. Seek treatment for any injuries you have received, refuel, and await further orders.”

The Vehicons began to leave immediately, murmuring quietly among themselves as they left. Dreadwing moved to stand next to a computer console, ready to continue trying to track Soundwave’s position.

“No,” Knock Out grabbed his arm, “You need to rest and refuel just like everyone else.”

“I am fine, Knock Out,” Dreadwing attempted to give a reassuring smile. Knock Out was having none of it.

“You need energon. The computers can wait.” He tugged lightly on Dreadwing’s arm, his field swirling with thinly disguised worry, “Come on.”

Dreadwing gave in to the medic’s wishes. He allowed himself to be led out of the bridge, the door closing quietly behind them.

The Autobots hesitated, their attention turning to Optimus.

“Go refuel,” He told them gently, “and prepare any reports you have. I will call Agent Fowler when I have received them.”

“All of you are reporting to the medical bay.” Ratchet told them gruffly, “I want to make sure all of you are in peak condition.”

They all knew better than to argue with that tone. With small nods they began to exit the room, leaving Ratchet and Optimus on one end of the bridge, and Megatron on the other.

Ratchet crossed his arms, “Be careful.”

Optimus looked at him, confusion evident on his face.

“I know you want this to work, Optimus.” Ratchet kept his voice low, optics shifting momentarily to glance at Megatron, “But you forgive far too easily. I don’t want to see you hurt if this goes bad.”

Optimus gave a small nod and set one servo on Ratchet’s shoulder, “You concern is appreciated, old friend. Do not concern yourself with me. I will be fine.”

Ratchet sighed softly, “He isn’t Megatronus, Optimus. Not anymore.” He patted Optimus’ servo before turning and following the others out of the bridge.

“I know…” Optimus stood straight once more, turning to face Megatron. The warlord was standing at the end of the bridge, facing the windows that portrayed a steadily lightening sky, with streaks of pink and light orange painting the clouds. His servos were clasped behind his back, and he was quiet.

Walking lightly, ignoring the small twinges of pain that came from his sore ankle, Optimus approached him. His anger from earlier was gone, banished by the sight of his friends arriving back safely and held at bay by the knowledge the Megatron did not needlessly risk their lives during a rescue attempt.

“You should be in the medical bay as well.” He said calmly once his was halfway across the suspended walkway. “Soundwave needs you at full strength.”

“I am fine.” Megatron’s voice was quiet, distant, and Optimus wondered for a brief moment if he had even heard what he had said.

“The energon on your side says otherwise.”

Megatron looked over his shoulder at Optimus, then down at his left side. Energon, mostly dried by now, was slowly oozing from a collection of scrapes.

“An Insecticon crashed into me. It is nothing. I’ll be fine.” The wound didn’t even sting, “It will heal on its own.”

“You should at least clean it.” Optimus moved closer, pulling a rag from his subspace as he came up beside Megatron. Megatron made no move to take it. Optimus hesitated for a brief moment, looking from Megatron’s face to his wound, then slowly sank to one knee and pressed the cloth against the wound.

Megatron started, looking down quickly. Optimus knelt in front of him, one servo applying pressure as he slowly and firmly drew the cloth over the open scrape. His optics were trained on his task, optic ridges furrowed just slightly as he focused. Megatron was reminded of a different place, a different time, when Orion had knelt before him, tending to wounds received during a match.

He shifted slightly, only to freeze when Optimus’ second servo reached up to grasp his hip, stilling him as so he could work. The touch was familiar, intimate, reawakening memories of a past both of them longed for, though neither would admit it.

So Megatron stood in place, allowing Optimus to clean his wound. The room was quiet, still, and as both of them allowed themselves to focus on this one moment, time seemed to slow, leaving them standing in their own place in time.

Optimus finished wiping the energon away. He pulled the cloth back, folding it to expose a clean side, then pressed it once more over the scrape; applying pressure to stop more energon from flowing. He could feel Megatron’s field where his servos pressed against plating. Megatron had pulled it in, keeping it close to his body, but he could not hide it from their contact.

Anger, exhaustion, and underneath another layer of anger, worry.

“We will get him back.” Optimus said softly, keeping his gaze on his work. “Soundwave is strong. He will survive until we can rescue him.”

Megatron did not respond, but Optimus could feel his optics on him. The knowledge of being watched sent a sharp tingle down his spinal strut, and he had to resist the urge to shiver. Palpable tension was beginning to grow, different from the anger than normally surrounded them. It electrified the air, leaving him with the feeling that one spark could birth a flame neither of them were ready to control.

But he did not pull away.

Every movement Megatron made was felt; the barely there shift of plating as he vented in and out, the steady thrum of powerful engines, Optimus felt it all beneath his palms. So he knew the moment Megatron unclasped his servos, allowing them to move from behind his back. It took all of his will power not to jump at the surprisingly gentle feel of Megatron resting his left servo over his shoulder so that the wound remained open to Optimus’ care.

Optimus looked up, finally meeting Megatron’s gaze. Red optics burned into his, and he became hyper aware of the weight of the servo on his shoulder.

Slowly, keeping their optics locked, Optimus rose to his pedes. His servos never broke contact with Megatron’s sides.

“We will rescue him, Megatron.” His voice was little more than a murmur.

“We will.” Megatron shifted his servo, moving it down just enough to cover the Autobot insignia that shone on Optimus’ shoulder.

Both of them knew they needed to pull away. Both of them knew that they should not be welcoming the tension that was charging the space between them. They were playing with fire, making the first move of a dangerous game they did not know the rules to.

 _The first move was allowing him to share my berth._ Optimus thought to himself. The servo not covering the wound drew up Megatron’s torso, flat digit tips brushing oh so lightly over silver. Each touch felt like a spark, leaving Megatron’s plating tingling.

The digits came to rest against the purple badge in the center of his chest. Optimus did not break their optic contact, but the pause in his touch was obvious. Megatron raised his right servo, gently touching the back of Optimus’ and pressing it flat against his insignia, hiding it as he had hidden Optimus’.

_Our past alliances, Autobot, Decepticon, no longer matter._

_The past **always** matters!_

Megatron could not be sure what thought invaded Optimus’ mind, but he frowned when Optimus looked away, down at their servos. Megatron moved the servo on his chest, bringing it up to catch Optimus’ chin and tilt his head up so he could look into those deep blue optics once more.

The touch was gentle, so familiar…it made Optimus’ spark ache.

Neither of them could say who moved first. The space between them shrunk to nothing, Optimus’ servo drifted from Megatron’s chest to cup his jaw, and their fields pressed against each other, weaving together with ease born from years of practice. It betrayed the longing the two mechs attempted to hide.

They met uncertainly, their lip plates brushing against each other in a feather light touch. A small pause followed the caress as they looked deep into each other’s optics, searching for answers to unspoken questions.

Optimus’ optics began to shut. Megatron moved to pull him closer.

“ _Prime!”_ The communication console by the door to the bridge lit up, and Agent Fowler appeared on screen, the very picture of anxious impatience.

The two mechs jumped apart, their fields separating unwillingly and with an almost audible sound of crackling electricity. It took a considerable amount of will power on both sides to rein the fields in and keep them close to their bodies; undetectable.

Optimus quickly moved down the walk way to stand in Agent Fowler’s line of sight. “Yes, Agent Fowler?”

“General Bryce wants your report on what happened, now! I tried to buy you time, but he’s desperate, what happened out there?”

“Optimus was unable to join in the battle.” Megatron took his place beside Optimus, though he kept a measurable distance between their bodies. Neither of them looked at the other. “Tell your _General Bryce_ that he will have _my_ report when it is finished.” He turned away from the computer. “I need to check in with my medic.” One small glance was cast in Optimus’ direction, there was the slightest hesitation, and then Megatron was gone, striding purposefully toward the door.

“Can you tell me anything, Optimus?”

“Soundwave escaped with the files that were being held at the base. There were no casualties on our end, only minor wounds. Other than that, I have no news for you.”

Fowler nodded, “I’ll try to keep the General from losing his mind at the lack of news. How are you holding up?”

“We are fine, Agent Fowler. Though we will all be fairing much better once Soundwave has been returned to our ranks.”

“Why is he running rogue right now? I figured he’d be jumping at the chance to rejoin with Megatron.”

“It is a long story. I will include the details in the report once I receive it. At this moment, you need to know that Soundwave is not doing this by choice, and that Silas and Airachnid are much more dangerous than we first thought. I strongly urge you to give an order against engaging with them, should they make an appearance.”

“That bad?”

“Worse than you can imagine.”

“Any idea on Soundwave’s condition? I assume healthy, since he was sent on today’s break-in.”

Optimus hesitated, “Physically, Soundwave is in working condition. But we have no way of knowing how long that will last. The sooner we can rescue him, the better.” He looked toward the door that Megatron had left through, his voice low and somber.

“We are running out of time.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Pain.

Pain _everywhere._

Soundwave couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t even begin to figure out exactly where the pain was coming from. It just _was._

“Order retracted.” Airachnid’s voice cut through the haze, and suddenly the pain was gone, leaving Soundwave kneeling on shaking leg struts.

“I ordered you to attack him.” She was still speaking, “I ordered you to transfer the code. Obviously the pain of disobeying was not enough to prevent you from running away instead of doing what you’re told.” She crossed her arms, looking down at his visor with cold optics. “Speak.”

The pain returned the moment he refused. Starting as a dull throb in his head and voice box, the pain spread and became more intense as time passed.

Soundwave had lost track of how long she had been doing this.

He had returned with the Insecticons, pain already tearing through his body as the code continued to push him to _attack, pin, transfer, attack, attack, ATTACK._ Airachnid had called off the order long enough for Silas to retrieve the downloaded files from him, only to spit out more and more orders in an attempt to cause him agony.

It angered him to admit that it was working.

Her first order had been to kneel; he had fought it at first, fighting against the pain that grew into a sharp burn in his knee and hip joints. But it quickly became clear that she was not going to retract the order, and Soundwave had to make a choice.

His pride or his escape.

Timing was crucial for his plan to succeed. If he broke too soon, he would never get away.

Relief came the instant he moved to kneel.

Airachnid didn’t stop.

She began to scold him, as one would a wayward hound or a misbehaving child. In between bouts of her lecture, she would snap an order and watch with twisted glee as Soundwave tortured himself in resistance.

Remove your mask. Speak. Play me a recording. Bow. Often the orders were repeated, just so the pain would return. There was not an inch of Soundwave’s body that did not ache.

“If you keep that up, you’ll damage him. Again.” Silas’ rough voice sounded distant through the cloud of agony that was filling Soundwave’s processor. “He is the only one you’ve managed to retrieve; I would like to keep him useable.”

“You would have had more if he had obeyed my commands.” Airachnid did not look away from Soundwave’s visor. “Order retracted.”

Instantly the pain disappeared. The sound of working fans filled the room as Soundwave’s systems worked desperately to cool themselves.

“He had Megatron in his sights, extending an open invitation to fight, and he chose to flee instead.” Airachnid looked over her shoulder as Silas approached, “I am reminding him of his place.”

“Could he have survived a fight against Megatron?” Silas asked, watching Soundwave’s shaking frame with a sort of bored curiosity.

“Besides the Prime, he is most likely the only one who could.” Airachnid looked back at Soundwave. “He fought Megatron once, in the gladiator pits in Kaon. It was the most famous battle to ever take place there. It was a miracle both of them survived the encounter.”

“All the more reason to keep him in working condition.” Silas said, “I want Megatron.”

“And you will have him. After I have finished breaking Soundwave, and trained him to be more obedient.”

Silas gave her a look, one optic ridge raised slightly. Airachnid returned the look, a sickly sweet smile spreading across her face.

“You want Megatron, don’t you?” She began to walk slowly behind Silas, allowing him an unrestricted view of their captive. “Soundwave will be the one to deliver him to you. In turn, Megatron will deliver Optimus, and with those two,” She stopped on his other side, servos resting lightly against his arm, “We can take any of the others.” Her smile turned into a deadly grin. “All we need to do is _convince_ Soundwave to do as he’s told.”

Silas continued to watch her, silent as he considered her words. His gaze turned to Soundwave once more, optics calculating. He gave one, slow nod. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Airachnid fluttered her optics innocently, knowing what he was telling her but wanting to hear him say it regardless.

Silas huffed through his vents, his optics turning cruel.

“Alright. Break him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron put up one hell of a fight as I was writing this. He didn't want to hold back.
> 
> As always, feel free to tell me what you think!
> 
> See you guys next week!


	12. Chapter 12

_Command: Open private file_

_Secondary Command: Encrypt file, and all following files_

_Tag: Highest Priority_

_Flag: Red-_ _Ω_

_Tertiary Command: delete any files tagged highest priority, flagged Red-_ _Ω, if file falls under assault by coding_

_Purpose: Record progress and regress during captivity_

_ Day One _

Soundwave made the decision to record everything that happened the morning after his, to quote Airachnid, ‘day of disobedience’. He woke with sore joints, an aching helm, and an odd discomfort that went beyond physical sensation.

He woke early; before Airachnid, before Silas, before the MECH troops or the Insecticons, and he sat in the dark silence, attempting to discover the cause of the irritating, soul deep itch beneath his plating.

Soundwave had no words to describe the sensation; it felt as if there was an irritation spawning from his very core. It felt like rust. Not a bad case, nothing life threatening, but bad enough that the rough feeling of weakening, corroding metal could be felt. Bad enough that normal bots with less restraint would have probably been caught scratching themselves on anything and everything in an effort to find relief. Except that it was beneath the plating, past the wires and energon lines, deeper than his struts, reaching farther than his nerve receptors. It came from his very being.

The coding.

Disobedience was not tolerated by a coding built to force order. He was being punished for his refusal to submit, even after Airachnid had ended the order. The coding didn’t care. He had rebelled, and rebellion would be punished.

Soundwave shifted ever so slightly against the wall he had been sleeping against. He could get through this, he would not allow this coding to break him. He just had to bide his time.

Airachnid and Silas would regret using him.

He sat quietly until the base began to wake. MECH agents came out into the main room and immediately set to work reading over the information Silas had ordered Soundwave to steal. None of them spared him a glance.

The Hive began to stir shortly after the agents’ arrival. They stood and stretched, shaking themselves as if they were shaking the last dredges of sleep from their bodies.

Airachnid made her appearance shortly after. She went to the energon stockpile, grabbing a cube for herself before turning to her Insecticons and giving them the okay to refuel. Several moved forward to top off their tanks. Soundwave waited patiently. As much as he would have liked to stand and retrieve his own cube, rather than relying on Airachnid to supply it for him, he had been given an order to sit still. It was easier to resist a forced movement than it was to fight against ordered stillness. So he waited, watching behind his broken visor as Airachnid calmly sipped at her fuel. Watched as she picked up another cube, presumably for him.

Only it wasn’t.

Airachnid easily tossed it to Silas as he came through the door.

“Good morning.” She smiled, her attention completely trained on him. No one even glanced at Soundwave.

Silas nodded his head to her and opened his cube, not questioning the lack of fuel in Soundwave’s servos.

“We have a busy day today.” Silas said after he had drained his cube.

“We do.” Airachnid moved to follow him out of the base. Soundwave was ignored.

And he remained ignored for the rest of the day, sitting as still as a statue from dawn until dusk.

By the time the others began to settle in for bed again that night, the coding induced itch had turned into an acute burn. Soundwave attempted to comfort himself by declaring that he would not have attempted to scratch at it even if he could.

__

_ Day Two _

By the next morning, Soundwave felt as if his plating was crawling over his protoform. Everything felt wrong; he itched and burned and was just down right uncomfortable. He had never been one to squirm, but he was beginning to miss at least having the option to do so. The sensations would change, seeming like an unbearable heat at their best, and an attention sucking pain at their worst.

The coding was indeed punishing him. Soundwave had decided the night before that Airachnid knew exactly what the coding was doing to him, and was ignoring him so that it would continue to torture him.

Without the chance to make up for his apparent transgressions, the code would only continue to make the pain more intense. It was a clever failsafe, an effortless torture.

Soundwave knew that Airachnid would get bored of it.

“Good morning.” Much quicker than he expected, it seemed.

Airachnid stood before him, servos resting lightly on her hips, cold smirk pulling lightly on the right corner of her mouth.

Soundwave was silent.

“Speak.” This was not a new order, and Soundwave was growing accustomed to the sharp click and uncomfortable tightening that came from his vocalizer attempting to engage and immediately being forced to shut down again. The pain flared quickly, localizing in his throat as the code attempted to force him to talk. It grew into a horrible heat, burning him from the inside. Strangely, Airachnid waited only a fraction of the time she normally did before she called the order off. The pain subsided.

“Kneel.” Soundwave braced himself, ready to force his legs still so they would not shift from where they lay stretched out in front of him. The pain that came from fighting the movement lasted for a mere moment before Airachnid retracted the order.

“Remove your mask.” Shoulders and elbows ached; joints protested being held still. Only this time the pain was merely an irritation before, “Never mind.”

Soundwave narrowed his optics behind his mask. This was new. She was barely giving him time to react before she gave him relief. Her smirk never faltered as she repeated the orders once more; striking the commands almost as quickly as she gave them.

It wasn’t until she turned around and walked away that Soundwave caught on to her game.

The code flared up again the moment she left; bright, sharp pain equivalent to being stabbed by hundreds of needles struck him.

She had given orders, he had disobeyed, the coding upped the punishment.

He was left unfed for the second day in a row.

__

_ Day Five _

On day four, with his energon meter just entering the red zone, he was fed. It was just enough energon to give him a half full meter again, but to his empty, cramping tank, it felt like a feast. Not that he allowed himself to show it. He sipped the energon through the small fuel intake he had installed in his mask as if he were unbothered by the pains of hunger.

Airachnid had continued her game from day two, coming to him each morning with a list of orders he was given no time to react to.

The code was doing its best to make him regret his rebellious ways. The “itch” had become an agonizing pain that radiated over every part of his body. Soundwave compared it to the pain he had felt when he had broken his leg strut in three places during a pit fight; only sharper and all including. He kept himself distracted by making lists. At the moment, it was only one: a list of all the things he could make lists of.

_The different treats I had tried before Cybertron went dark._

_The treats I never tried but always wanted to._

_The names of all the Cybertronians I have ever met._

_The names of all the Cybertronians I have killed._

_The names of all the Cybertronians I have killed, sorted by date: pre-war and during war._

He kept himself distracted, and the pain remained tolerable.

“Ready to eat?” Airachnid’s voice forcibly dragged his attention outward again, the mere sound of it chasing the coding induced pain away. She stood with an energon cube in her servos, much to Soundwave’s surprise. He had been certain that he was going to be starved again.

“We’re going to play a game.” She lazily turned the cube in her hold, allowing the energon to slosh slowly from side to side. “If you want to eat, you must obey a command. If you refuse, well, you’re smart.” She grinned.

“Silas wanted me to thank you for retrieving those schematics for him; they are proving to be very useful.” She continued to talk, all the while keeping the energon front and center. “I must admit, they do seem quite interesting. By human standards, I mean.” She shrugged, “That is a conversation we can have later. Now…” She held the cube still, optics boring into Soundwave’s mask.

“Kneel.”

Soundwave felt the familiar pull and strain as his legs attempted to shift under him. He forced them still, almost wincing at the throbbing that radiated from his hips and knees as his body and mind battled against each other. But he refused to give in. Not again.

Airachnid stood silently, watching and waiting for Soundwave to submit. Five full minutes passed before she tutted disapprovingly and retracted the order. Five full minutes of increasing pain that only seemed worse in his weakened state, quickly reaching levels of intensity he hadn’t even known existed. Soundwave felt as if his legs had been held inside a smelter.

“I knew you would be a challenge Soundwave.” Airachnid turned away, “We’ll try again later.” She threw him a smile over her shoulder before leaving, a soft, dark laugh escaping her.

The second she was out of sight, pain washed over Soundwave so quickly and harshly that for a moment he actually thought his spinal strut had snapped. He closed his optics and continued with his list of things to list.

_Worst injuries endured._

__

_ Day Ten _

Soundwave had already gone through two of his lists. At the end of day five, Airachnid had left him with a parting command:

“Stay awake.” And left him sitting there, motionless, starving, and exhausted.

It was so much easier to resist commands affecting his body than it was those affecting his mind.

At the very least, staying awake seemed to appease the code slightly. Enough that the pain had reversed from the unbearable level it had reached to merely agonizing.

His energon meter was well within the red zone now. It was unclear to him what hurt worse; the pain from the code or the pain from his tank, which felt as if it were trying to digest itself in a desperate bid for fuel.

And that did not compare to what his own mind was doing to him.

In an Earth week, a Cybertronian could sleep once every three days compared to a humans once a day. They could survive on less sleep, provided they were not overworking themselves, because they were capable of storing more energy. Sleep was not as important to Cybertronians.

Soundwave was living in various states of pain, the lowest of which would leave an average soldier begging for an inhibitor…or twelve. He was literally running on fumes, his energy level so low that his HUD had stopped pinging him with alerts in an effort to save power. His body was attempting to heal at the same time that he was forcing it to tear itself apart.

He needed to sleep. He was _craving_ sleep. His body had reached its limit, and his mind was not far behind. Every fiber of his being was fixated on getting even a nano-cycle of recharge.

Every fiber…except the _fragging coding._

Soundwave had been pushed well past the point where his body should have been automatically shutting down. He knew that point well, having reached it a few times on his own as he had pushed himself too hard during the war. At any other time, he should have fallen to the ground, forcibly knocked offline so his body could recuperate.

The coding would not allow it.

His mind was paying the price.

On a good day, he was seeing double. Sounds filtered in delayed and muddled together, becoming almost impossible for him to tell where one conversation ended and the next one began.

On a bad day, he could not distinguish one shape from another. There was no such thing as sound, because there was no such thing as silence. A droning, continuous buzz filled his audios.

He could no longer keep his thoughts straight. Attempting to focus his mind by repeating one of his lists led him on wild, mental goose-chases that ended with an annoying feeling of childish irritation and confusion.

The night before had introduced him to his first hallucination.

Well, he was fairly certain it was a hallucination. Surely Silas of all people could not have been arguing with Airachnid about Soundwave’s health and wellbeing.

At least today seemed to be a good day. He was able to see the two to three (depending on the light angle) Airachnid’s that began to approach him.

“Ready to eat?” Unlike the rest of the noise from the past few days, Airachnid’s voice came through loud and clear. It claimed all the focusing power of his failing mind. The coding inside him practically purred as it released its painful hold on his body.

_Master’s here. Now we can make up for our disobedience, now we can earn a reward!_

The relief that came from the lack of torturing pain could probably have sent an average Cybertronian into a small overload.

Airachnid held the cube in front of her just as she had before, keeping it the center of attention. Soundwave’s optics locked onto it, and his mouth had filled with oral lubricant before he could control himself.

“All you need to do is follow my orders, Soundwave.” Airachnid said, her voice soft and slow, as if she were explaining a difficult concept to a sparkling. “Now, _bow._ ”

Soundwave’s body folded on itself before he could even begin to _think_ about disobeying. One moment he was staring at several cubes of very blurry energon, the next his mask was pressed   flat against the floor, his legs spread awkwardly to either side. Desperation had caused his body to bend without reorienting his legs into a more comfortable position.

For one glorious second, the delighted coding rewarded his obedience with soothing, pain-numbing pleasure. Pleasure Soundwave normally associated with a calm conversation with Megatron, or a quiet night with his minicons. Then the second was over, and the reward was overruled by agony as the stiff joints, struts, and cables screamed out in anger at being forced to move after ten days of complete stillness.

Soundwave had just enough control left to keep himself from vocalizing his discomfort.

“Very good.” Airachnid purred at him, “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” She kneeled down next to him, one servo stroking over the back of his helm. She was petting him, just like she would pet her Insecticons.

Soundwave couldn’t remember why that made him angry.

“You may eat.” She placed the cube down next to him and stepped back. Soundwave pushed himself up again, moving slower this time as his body reminded him how stiff it was. Shaking servos wrapped around the cube, lifting it slowly, carefully, as if it were some delicate thing that could disappear in a flash.

Some small part of him whispered that he needed to drink it slowly; or he would risk purging the fuel as soon as it hit his tank. That part of him was drowned out the moment the first drop hit his glossa.

He began to drain the cube with deep, desperate gulps, hardly tasting the energon as it washed through his mouth. He planned on drinking it all, as quickly as possible, and he would be full, he would be stronger, he-

“Slowly.” Airachnid half snapped at him, and his servos immediately pulled the cube from the fuel slot on his mask, forcing him to wait. “I will not give you another if you purge it.”

So Soundwave began to sip from the cube instead. His systems began to hum with delight as energy was returned to them, his HUD even began to pinging him again, first with low fuel warnings, then as more energon was taken in, with reminders that he needed to sleep. When the cube was finally empty, Soundwave felt a familiar, wonderful feeling spreading through his lines. After spending so much time with an empty tank, even normal grade energon was enough to build up a charge. The extra energon even helped to take the edge off of his exhaustion, though a good night’s rest still sounded wonderful…

Behind his mask, Soundwave smiled slightly. That one cube was already helping him. His tank was full, almost to 100%, his lines were buzzing, and his optics and audio receivers were beginning to work again. Airachnid solidified into one being, instead of appearing as two blurry figures, the everyday sounds of the base became distinguishable again, and Soundwave had his first clear thought in days.

_I bowed._

Horror shot through him, erasing all traces of relief. He had bowed to Airachnid. He had caved to her orders. He, Soundwave of Kaon, master gladiator, master spy, Decepticon surveillance officer and Third in Command to Megatron, had bowed at Airachnid’s pedes in a show of disgraceful desperation.

His tanks rolled, and it was only the desire to remain clear headed that stopped him from purging the fuel that was being processed.

“Stand up.” Airachnid commanded him, “You aren’t useful if your joints freeze from disuse.”

Anger welled up inside him. Did she really think that he would give in that easily? That just because she fed him he would become her willing slave? No. Let his joints freeze. Let his body atrophy. She couldn’t have him.

Soundwave refused to move. Joints strained, cabling groaned, every fiber of his body begged him to move. Pain filled him again, sharp and bright and all consuming.

His anger outshone it, cutting through the haze as easily as Megatron’s blade cut through his opponents. Never mind that his knees felt as if they were attempting to hyperextend, forget the pressure in his hips that felt as though it would push the joints from their sockets if he did not move. Airachnid did not own him, would _never_ own him.

“I said _stand up._ ” Airachnid repeated, harsher, louder.

Soundwave shifted, but only so he could sit more comfortably against the wall.

Airachnid hissed in annoyance before controlling herself. That familiar smirk returned to her face.

“Have it your way.” She turned away from him. Just before exiting the room she looked back at him, her optics shining brightly, “I retract my order to stay awake. You may sleep.”

She left. The lights turned off.

Soundwave narrowed his optics.

 

_ Day Thirteen _

Following his show of weakness, Soundwave was surprised and suspicious by the lack of continued torture. He was fed, though only enough to keep his tanks half full, and he was allowed to sleep (though he didn’t the first night, too suspicious of possible motives to be able to rest). The only torturing truly being done was from the code, which attacked with vengeance at his blatant show of disrespect after the generous gift of fuel he had been given. Airachnid had gone back to ignoring him. The only time he saw her was when she entered the room to watch the MECH agents as they assembled a strange earth machine that Soundwave recognized as coming from the schematics he had stolen.

It was only after he went back and watched the recordings he had made during his sleep deprived state that Soundwave realized they had been collecting materials with the help of the Insecticons.  

“Ready to eat?” Airachnid approached him, her customary cube of energon in her servos. Soundwave narrowed his optics. He knew what that meant. More commands, more refusal, more pain, no energon. Really, if Airachnid planned on following the same patterns, she would never get what she wanted from him.

“Kneel.” There it was. Step one. He countered with step two, visor blank as he faced her. Step three followed quickly, his knees flaring with hot pain that rivaled being shot.

“Kneel.” Repeat step one. Repeat step two. Increase step three.

Only this time, she was patient. More patient than she had been with him. The cycle repeated four, five, six times, until Soundwave felt a sharper flare of pain from his right leg. Pain that he knew from experience could send him to the ground, unable to speak from its intensity.

A cable had snapped.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Soundwave felt fear.

His body could not be forced to remain unresponsive forever. The competing commands and forces were tearing him apart from the inside out. He knew that, had made an entire plan around that.

Airachnid knew it too. She also knew that she could out last him.

Soundwave’s mind began to race, calculating the chances of his plans success, running diagnostics on his own body, attempting to come up with an escape route.

It told him what he already knew; if he did not start giving in to Airachnid’s orders, his body would sustain greater injuries than he could deal with, and he would never get away from her. There was only one thing he could do.

When Airachnid repeated the order to kneel, Soundwave bit his glossa, swallowed his pride, and slowly drew his stiff and injured legs under his body until he was kneeling stiffly in front of her.

Airachnid’s grin could have driven him to murder.

 

_ Day Twenty _

The pattern continued for the next week. Every day Airachnid came to him with energon. Every day Airachnid asked the same question.

“Ready to eat?”

Every day she gave him commands. And every day Soundwave was forced to follow them or risk his body breaking apart. Granted, he forced her to repeat the commands two or three times before following them.

He had gotten lucky. The cable he thought had snapped had merely torn, though it was only a matter of time before it gave. Nevertheless, the warning was the same: obey or you will never escape.

So he kneeled, he bowed, he played her recordings of humiliating incidents from the _Nemesis,_ and every morning, as instructed, he approached Airachnid the moment he saw her, knelt and bowed, and pressed his visor to her pedes in a mock kiss.

It made his tanks roll with rage and left him feeling disgusted and sick, but he did it.

The only good side to this hell was that the coding no longer attacked him. In fact, it was doing just the opposite. Every order followed earned him a wave of soothing sensation. Forced happiness, Soundwave called it. Now the only pain came from real, physical issues; sore, aching joints from his refusals, and sharp, stabbing pains from his sustained injuries. Those were familiar. Easily ignored.

Airachnid still kept him weak. Energon levels were kept low, and he was now only permitted to sleep for an allotted amount of time at night. It was enough to keep him “healthy” (by twisted medic logic) but with little to no energy to resist.

But there were two commands he refused to follow: “Remove your mask” and “Speak.” The first one Airachnid had seemingly given up on, the second…

“I said _speak,_ Soundwave.”

It was the eighth time she had given the command and irritation was evident in her voice.

Soundwave refused. His throat hurt in more ways than he could count; it felt as if someone had slashed his throat while he was simultaneously being choked. As if he had swallowed fire while at the same time been left in sub-zero temperatures for far too long. His throat was close to expanding and bursting at the very moment it was attempting to fold in on itself.

“If you think you will win this war, Soundwave, you’re wrong. Now _speak._ ”

“I thought you said you had broken him.” Silas commented from the doorway as Soundwave’s pain increased to a fifteen.

“I said I had _almost_ broken him. There are two commands he won’t follow yet.”

“Will he follow enough commands to be useful in the field?”

“Yes. But that is not good enough for me.”

“That is all I need.”

Airachnid turned her attention away from Soundwave long enough to fix Silas with an exasperated glare.

“Just because he follows orders does not mean he has been broken. I do not leave a job half finished, Silas. You told me to break him. I want him to be a shattered husk of a mech at my pedes.”

“I know what I said. But I need him in the field if we hope to finish our project.”

“You can have him after he _speaks.”_ Airachnid turned his optics back to Soundwave as she gave the order once more.

Soundwave refused once again, forcing his voice box to disengage before words could escape him. He glared at Airachnid through his mask, focusing on his anger so he could ignore the pain. It worked.

Right up until his voice box gave.

There was an audible pop, a harsh staticky sound, the smell of burning wires, and visible smoke that floated up in thin, gray wisps.

Swallowing acid dipped broken glass would have been less painful.

Airachnid began to laugh full, shoulder shaking laughter.

“I knew you were stubborn Soundwave, but sacrificing your voice box?” She wiped at her optics, as if the amusement had brought her to tears. “That’s wonderful!”

“Should I get the engineers?” Silas was less amused. He stepped forward and bent down so that he could grasp Soundwave’s chin and force his head back to examine his throat.

Soundwave went cold. If the engineers began to repair him, they would fix everything. He would have to start all over again, and Airachnid would figure out what he was up to. He would never get out.

“No, let him keep it.” Airachnid was still smiling, “He brought this on himself.”

Being denied medical care had never been good news to Soundwave before.

“Go back to your corner.”

Soundwave stood and made his way back to his given spot. He sat carefully, leaning against the wall in the most comfortable position he had found.

“Give me a few more days, Silas.” Airachnid said, patting Silas’ arm, “Then you can use him.”

They left to continue their conversation, their voices growing muffled as they exited the room.

The code struck the minute Airachnid was gone.

_ Day Twenty-four _

Airachnid continued to taunt him for the next four days. Every day was filled with command after command, ranging from the ridiculously childish (she actually asked him to mimic a monkey from some human internet video) to horribly demeaning. Soundwave’s knees still ached from crawling on the floor like a lost turbo hound wherever Airachnid walked.

Finally, after much arguing and thinly veiled threats, Silas got Airachnid to release him back into the field. There was an important piece of equipment Silas needed to finish his project, including a new set of activation codes that only Soundwave would be able to access.

Transforming had never felt so good.

The transmitter was attached to his audio receiver once more, allowing Airachnid audio and visual access to him at all times. Silas provided the coordinates. Dozens of Insecticons flew behind him as he led the way to their target.

The cool wind whipping across his plating, the smell of clean, fresh air, it cleared his mind and made him feel refreshed. Soundwave had never put much stock in religion, but he almost understood what others meant by a cleansed soul. He never realized how much he missed flying…

They arrived at the military base far too quickly for Soundwave’s liking.

Attacking the base went just as the first job had. The Insecticons scattered the military forces, destroying anything and everything in their path. Soundwave broke in through the roof and attached his cables to the computers. After no more than ten minutes, the humans pulled out, leaving in whatever vehicles had not already been reduced to nothing. Mere moments after that, a ground bridge opened, and the battle began.

Explosions, bright flashes of light, the familiar deep yell that came from Optimus’ Prime, the distinct engine sounds of the Autobots, the screams of Vehicon thrusters, it all reminded Soundwave of home; of the _Nemesis_ and the Decepticons and the people he had been torn from.

_Laserbeak must be terrified…_

That thought broke Soundwave’s concentration, not that it was needed for his computers to hack the human technology. He had not thought of his minicon in a long time, distracted as he was with his escape plan and survival. But now that the thought had introduced itself, he found he could not tear his mind away from it.

_Is he safe? Did Starscream take him to Megatron? Is Starscream caring for him? Is he afraid for me?_

_Is he alive?_

He tried not to focus on the last thought. Under normal circumstances, he would have comforted himself with the knowledge that, had Laserbeak gone offline, he would have felt the bond between them snap. But considering the amount of time he had spent unconscious or in mind numbing agony, Soundwave would not have known if the bond had snapped or not. And opening it now to check, after keeping it closed for so long, was not an option. There was no telling what he would transmit over it, what he would expose Laserbeak to.

No.

He had to trust that Laserbeak was okay. He had to trust that Starscream was taking care of him.

“Soundwave!” Megatron’s voice, rough, deep, familiar, drew his attention. The ground trembled behind him as Megatron dove through the ceiling, a perfect repeat of their last encounter, and landed heavily, “No more games!” Soundwave paused.

Was that…desperation?

“You are coming back to the _Nemesis,_ with me, now!” Megatron was snarling. He never snarled at Soundwave. “I am not letting you get away again.” He lunged.

Soundwave dove to the side, his cables disconnecting from the computer seconds before Megatron crashed into it.

 _“Fight him off, Soundwave.”_ Airachnid’s voice filtered through the audio transmitter, _“Transfer the coding if you have an opening.”_

Megatron charged him again, field expanded and filled with overwhelming determination and anger. Soundwave rolled away from him, knees protesting the movements. He attempted to spin around to face him, only to stumble when the joint in his hip froze in its socket; too tender and weak to withstand his normally quick pace. Megatron was on him in a second, forcing him to the floor with his weight.

_“Now Soundwave!”_

Soundwave felt his cables begin to stir, reeling in and moving up. The medical port on Megatron’s neck was exposed, Airachnid knew it, he knew it, the coding knew it.

“Let me help you!” Megatron grabbed one thin wrist in his servo as Soundwave swung at him, “We can reverse this!”

Soundwave couldn’t stop himself. His body had grown accustom to following orders, even if his mind revolted against it. He tried to force himself still, but his limbs continued to move, to swing and kick and attempt to attach to the mech above him. He was still capable of fighting. His plan wasn’t ready, he had miscalculated, he was going to hurt someone.

The cable swooped down, targeting the defenseless medical port that Megatron had left vulnerable.

Rotors and cogs screeched in protest as Soundwave forced his cable farther than it intended to go. Instead of attaching to Megatron, it wound around his neck, tightening dangerously and tugging to one side at the same time Soundwave managed to hook his legs around the warlord’s waist and twist his hips. The force from both movements, aided by a desperate strength Soundwave did not know himself capable of, threw Megatron off and sent him spilling to the floor.

“ _No!”_ Two voices, two reason for anger. Soundwave bolted to his pedes and transformed. Megatron jumped toward him. Sharp digits barely grazed Soundwave’s tail fins before he was able to propel himself forward. The take-off was sloppy; he caught one wing against the jagged edges of the ceiling as he exited the building and only avoided colliding with a Vehicon due to the soldier’s quick reflexes.

 _”What are you doing!? Turn around!”_ Airachnid was screaming at him, her voice piercing through his audio receivers like a freshly whetted blade. Soundwave’s vision began to fill with black spots as agony like he had never experienced before swept over him. His engine stalled, and for a long, terrifying second, Soundwave dropped through the air, completely helpless as he fell. It reengaged with a choked stutter, and he forced himself forward, desperately trying to put distance between himself and Megatron. Plating itched and crawled, his wings and tail fins screamed as they attempted to turn him around.

It felt as if he were being torn apart at the seams, like large invisible servos were ripping at his plating, peeling it away from his protoform before attempting to peel that away from his underlying struts.

Centuries passed in the time it took him to return to the MECH base. He landed on stumbling pedes and shaky legs that could not hold him. An extra dose of agony was added to his knees as they slammed against the concrete floor. His vison swam, heat radiated from his body in waves, systems running too hot to be cooled by his fans. Everything in his body that was capable of feeling pain was now swimming in it. His processor screamed at him, unable to focus on anything happening around him.

So he didn’t hear the sharp click of pointed heels on concrete. Didn’t notice Airachnid approaching him. Was completely unaware of her presence until the world literally exploded in front of his optics.

Airachnid kicked him as hard as she could, her pede connecting squarely with his visor. The glass, broken, cracked, and being held together by luck alone, shattered on contact. Glass blew back into Soundwave exposed face, cutting the softer metal around his left optic. He recoiled away, looking up toward the newest threat so that he could defend himself. The world looked wrong; fully, completely visible to his left optic, fractured and disfigured to his right. His visor had broken on one side, exposing half his face to the world.

Airachnid came after him again, slashing at his face with her sharpened digits. Soundwave attempted to bring his arms up, to block the easily countered blow, only to find he couldn’t. The code refused to let him. Her digits clawed across his exposed face. They scratched across his cheek and caught at the edge of the remaining glass on his visor. A larger chunk of it fell away.

“Do you really think you can continue to play this game with me?” Airachnid hissed, “Do you honestly believe that you can keep up with this plan of running away every time Megatron appears?” She kicked him in the stomach, the sharp point of her pede digging harshly into his plating. “I know you’re planning to escape. You plan on leaving the moment Megatron can overpower you.” She reached down, wrapping one servo around his throat. Needle like digits pricked against major energon lines, and for the first time ever, Soundwave felt helpless.

“I asked myself why you didn’t go with him the first time. You were able to disobey me long enough to run away from him, why not go back with him?” She tightened her grip, “I figured it out. You’re afraid to go back right now. You’re afraid to return, because you’ll be in pain, tortured by the coding, forever in my grasp. Even if you manage to get away from this, from me, from Silas, you will be returning to Megatron a _broken,_ useless drone! Do you think he will want you? Do you _honestly_ think he’ll accept you back when you have _nothing_ to offer him? He’ll turn you out faster than if you were Starscream.” Airachnid sneered at him, “You will _never_ be rid of me, Soundwave. Even if you escape, that coding will always be with you. It will forever burn inside you, torturing you for every disobeyed order, reminding you who you belong to.”

Airachnid bent lower, pulling his face closer, reducing the space between them to almost nothing. “I _own you,_ Soundwave. Now, and forever.” She shoved him away, stomping onto his chest to force his back to the floor.

Soundwave could do nothing. He could not attempt to defend himself, nor could he attack. Even trying to squirm under Airachnid’s pede reawakened the agony boiling within him.

“You seem to have trouble remembering that fact.” Airachnid’s extra appendages spread out behind her. Light glinted from the silver blades. “Let’s see if we can fix that.”

 

_ Day ~~Thirty~~ ~~Twenty-eight~~ ~~Thirty-five~~ Unknown _

Soundwave lost track of the days. Even the computing system that had been keeping track of them lost count. Not that it came of any surprise to Soundwave. It couldn’t run without something to run off of.

He had no idea when he had last refueled. Sleep was nothing more than a memory. Pain was his everything. Past, present, future; the beginning, the end. It didn’t cover him like a sheet, it wasn’t a static pain. It ebbed, flowed, faded. Like waves. Sometimes it came from his joints, sometimes it came from the soul deep source that was the code. Other times it came from the fresh wounds that covered his body.

Insults, slurs, curses reserved for your worst enemy, all etched into his plating in Cybertronian script. Carved with blades, cauterized with acid.

Soundwave couldn’t think. During the brief, fleeting moments of clarity, he remembered that he was supposed to be angry. Then the moments would fade and any thought progress he had made was lost.

The hallucinations returned.

Megatron, leaning against the energon cubes, watching him with silent judgement.

Ravage, pawing at his pede and pleading with him to get up.

Laserbeak, lying on his chest, trilling with scared desperation.

Starscream, kneeling over him, just as he had when he’d first found him in that forest.

“What’s happened to you?”

Soundwave blinked blearily at the imagined Seeker. _I have no strength left…_

“Megatron would be so disappointed.” Starscream tapped his digits along Soundwave’s chest, “His most loyal Decepticon, broken by Airachnid. Do you plan on continuing to allow her to walk all over you?”

_I cannot fight this…I have no more strength…there is nothing left to give…_

“Oh, spoken like a true Decepticon. No wonder you’re third in command.” Starscream snorted, “I did not risk my own life by coming to investigate your attack, just for you to give up.”

 _Even if I got away…the coding will forever be a part of me. I will never be free of her. I will be a liability to our cause…to Megatron…_ Soundwave closed his optics. _I am no longer useful._

“ _Spare_ me the dramatics.” Starscream grasped his chin between his thumb and fore-digit, the touch so real that Soundwave opened his dangerously dull optics to meet the vivid red ones that hovered above him. “Have you learned nothing from me? Your usefulness is not decided by Megatron. It is not decided by Airachnid either. _You_ decide your usefulness.” Starscream leaned in closer, his breath warm against the side of Soundwave’s head. His voice lowered to a soft purr. “How useful do you want to be, Soundwave?”

Soundwave blinked slowly. When his optics reopened, Starscream was gone.

The colors and sounds around him blurred together once more.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

There was no way of knowing how long he was out of it. When he became aware of his surroundings again, it was due to Airachnid’s return, from a trip Soundwave did not remember her leaving for.

“Oh Silas,” She called into the base, “I need you for a moment.”

Soundwave turned his head to look at her, curious as to why she sounded so happy. What he saw made his energon freeze in his lines.

Two forms, unconscious and limp, were dropped at Airachnid’s pedes by the Insecticons that flanked her. Soundwave could not focus enough to make out any distinguishing features.

_No…_

Silas lumbered into the room, pede steps heavy. “What is it?” His optics slid over the new bodies, widening slightly in surprise.

Airachnid grinned.

“I brought you a present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave I'm so sorry...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out waaaayyy longer than it was supposed to be.
> 
> There is probably going to be a ton of typos. I'm posting this about thirty seconds after finishing it and it's like, 2:30 am here right now so...I'll fix mistakes tomorrow.
> 
> Sorry for the added wait today, hope you all enjoy!

_ Day One _

If Optimus and Megatron had thought that they could hide what had happened between them the night before, they found out very quickly that they had been mistaken. Within half a cycle of them awkwardly retrieving their morning rations, the entire ship was buzzing with whispered questions and excited speculations.

Ratchet had to threaten to give Bumblebee janitor duty to get him to stop asking questions.

It took less than two cycles for Smokescreen and a few Vehicons to open a betting pool. Everyone jumped to put their bid in, the guesses ranging from hate sex to sobbing apologies to each other. Credits were near useless to everyone now that Cybertron was destroyed, so the winning prize turned into an assortment of rare and heavily envied treats and luxuries:

A box of rust sticks, still sealed, courtesy of Bumblebee. Half a box of Crystal City cygars from Wheeljack. A full and mostly unused wax and polish kit, complete with everyone’s favorite scented wax was added to the pile by Arcee. Several datadiscs containing a variety of professional porn.

“What? We all watch it.” The Vehicon who offered them said defensively when he was given several inquisitive looks, “A mech gets lonely.”

Knock Out threw in a ‘coupon’ good for “one free medical visit”; in this case free meaning “no questions asked, no reports made”. Ratchet whispered his bet into Smokescreen’s audio receiver before placing a fully stocked first aid kit that fit comfortably in a subspace compartment on top of the pile. Starscream, after hearing about the bet through Knock Out, out shone all of the prizes with his contribution.

Several cubes of the finest visco known to Cybertron, processed by specialists in the heart of Vos.

“Great!” A Vehicon named Tripline clapped his servos together, “Now all we need is the security footage from last night, and we’ll have our answer!”

The room went quiet as everyone exchanged glances.

“What? What’s so hard about that?” Wheeljack asked, breaking the silence. “Can’t you get that off of any monitor on the ship?”

“Um…no, not really.” Lightyear, an Eradicon currently sporting a splint on one wing answered, “Soundwave was the one who normally handled security…The best way to access it without him is through the main console on the bridge…the one at the very front…”

“Okay. So go grab it on your next shift.”

“Megatron is usually at that console now.” Tripline said, sounding sheepish now, “It’s going to be difficult to get to it without him noticing…”

Wheeljack and Arcee turned to Smokescreen, both of them watching him with raised optic ridges.

“You opened a bettin’ pool without havin’ a way to tell who won?”

“Don’t worry!” Smokescreen threw up his servos, a big, slightly nervous smile on his face as others began to grumble. “We’ll figure it out!”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The medical bay was far too quiet when Knock Out returned to the medical bay after placing his bet, Dreadwing right behind him. Starscream was carefully sitting up on his berth, Laserbeak cradled against his chest. Both of them were silent. Starscream was very slowly stroking his digits over Laserbeak’s back.

The open, bright smile on Knock Out’s face turned disappeared behind a serious expression.

“I will leave you to work.” Dreadwing murmured, gently placing his servo to the small of Knock Out’s back, “I will speak with you later tonight.” He exited quietly, the door sliding shut behind him.

Knock Out moved to Starscream’s side, concern evident in his field. “What happened?”

“He had a nightmare.” Starscream said, adjusting his arms to hold Laserbeak just a little bit tighter. Up close, Knock Out could make out the small trembles that were running through the minicon’s frame.

“Only a nightmare?”

Starscream looked up at the medic, attempting to silently ask what he meant. Knock Out tapped over his own chest, directly over his spark. Starscream shook his head.

“The bond he has with Soundwave has been closed off. It was a nightmare.”

Knock Out nodded slightly, his voice soft. “That almost makes it worse.”

They stood in silence for a moment as Starscream worked to calm Laserbeak down. Knock Out watched them, curious about their new connection.

“How are you feeling today?”

“It’s easier to move.” Starscream traced a digit along the edge of Laserbeak’s wing, “My jaw no longer feels as if it is rusted in place.”

“And the pain?”

“Ratchet lowered the amount of inhibitors this morning. I am mostly just sore.”

“That’s good. You’re healing well.”

“How long will I have to wait for you to replace my t-cog?”

“I am not going to perform surgery on you until you’ve had a chance to really heal, Starscream.”

“I did not ask you to do it now!” Starscream snapped. Laserbeak jumped and Starscream immediately lowered his voice, “I am asking for a time frame.”

Knock Out inhaled deeply, crossing his arms as he considered it. “Ask me again when you can walk.”

Starscream frowned but did not argue, clearly displeased by the prospect of waiting.

Unable to do much to help either of his patients at the moment, Knock Out quietly turned to tidy up the medical bay. Ratchet had moved his tools in, but at the moment they were still sitting in the box they had arrived in, as there was no space for them to be unpacked into. Knock Out hoped to empty out a drawer or two for the other medic. Though he would never admit it aloud, Knock Out was thankful for the extra set of trained servos.

“You and Dreadwing seemed to have grown quite close.” Starscream said suddenly after several minutes of silence. Knock Out paused in his work.

“Oh?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I’ve only been back on this ship for two days, but I can see it. He accompanies you like a second shadow. Even into your berth room. You like them big and blue, do you? Hoping he will replace Breakdown as your-”

“Don’t.” Knock Out’s voice was soft, but firm. He found he could not bring himself to face the Seeker. Instead he kept his optics on the drill in his servo.

Before, Starscream might have sneered at the blatant show of distress from the medic. Now, it was different. Much had changed in his absence, that much was obvious. Knock Out was different, slightly less flashy, slightly quieter, more internally focused than before. Starscream recognized grief, even in such a subtle form. They had both been through a lot since Airachnid was introduced into their lives.

He did not apologize. Not outright. That would have just freaked both of them out. But when he spoke again, his voice was softer, much more questioning and curious and less prying and accusatory. “What is he to you?”

Knock Out did not have an answer.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The fight broke out just before the final evening shift change.

“Autobot scum!” Lightyear landed a heavy blow across Wheeljack’s face, knocking him back into the wall of the hallway. Loud clangs echoed down the hall, and several doors slid open so that others could see who was causing the ruckus.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that, ’Con!” Wheeljack lunged forward, tackling Lightyear around the middle. They both went down in a mass of loud curses and flying punches.

“ _Enough!”_ Megatron’s distinct roar made both of them freeze. They looked up from their spot on the floor, straining their necks to meet Megatron’s heated glare. Wheeljack smirked at him.

“Problem?”

Megatron’s lip curled. “You may not be under my command, Wheeljack, but _you_ are.” He turned his glare to Lightyear, who was currently still pinned under Wheeljack’s form. “I believe I made myself quite clear. Infighting will _not_ be tolerated!”

“The Autobot started it, Lord Megatron!” Lightyear shoved Wheeljack off and hastily scrambled to his pedes.

“That’s a load of slag!” Wheeljack snapped.

“Wheeljack.” Optimus’ stern voice sounded from the other end of the hall, and all optics turned to watch him approach. A small frown tugged at his mouth. His optics were filled with clear disapproval. “We have had this discussion. During this time of peace, fighting between the Decepticons and Autobots will not be allowed.”

“The ‘Con drove me to it.”

“I do not care who started this squabble. It is over now. We are supposed to be working together.”

“This will not happen again.” Megatron growled. Lightyear gave a small nod.

“Yes, Lord Megatron…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wheeljack huffed. He wiped at his mouth, looking at his servo to observe the smear of energon.

Lightyear and Wheeljack were both ordered to the medical bay. Both of them rounded the corner, out of sight of their respective leaders, then paused so they could look back to see how Optimus and Megatron would act with each other.

The mechs in question had not moved from their spot in the hall as they watched each other, sharing a silent conversation.

Around them, the Vehicons and Eradicons slowly began to resume their tasks. A small group disappeared through the door that led to the bridge.

“Come on.” Lightyear nudged Wheeljack, “He’ll meet us in the medical bay.”

Wheeljack nodded and turned to follow him. He wiped at his mouth again.

“Nice punch.”

“Thanks. Nice tackle.” Lightyear rubbed at his stomach plating, “I think you dented something.”

“Slag happens.”

Knock Out and Starscream looked up from their conversation as soon as the door slid open. Even Dreadwing, who had made it very clear that he did not want to be involved in this, paused in his organizing of Knock Out’s tool to look over at the new arrivals.

“Well?” Starscream demanded.

“Went well.” Wheeljack strolled over to an empty berth and hopped up. “Megatron came right out.”

“And you two got too enthusiastic.” Ratchet grumped at them as he walked in behind them. “I could hear the clanging from the floor below you. Do either of you know how to pull a punch?”

“We had to make it look real, Doc.” Wheeljack grinned. “We’re fine.”

Ratchet rubbed his temple, “Was Tripline able to retrieve the security footage?”

“Yes he was!” Tripline ran in, his optical band glowing brightly in his excitement. He held up a memory stick.

“Let’s see who won.”

__

_ Day Two _

Everyone had long since gotten use to Knock Out’s new found love of isolation. They had become acquainted to the way he would walk in to the mess hall, grab his rations, and leave without a word. They were even becoming use to the even newer habit of him not appearing at all. The newest routine involved Dreadwing grabbing both of their rations and retreating back to the medical bay to share the meal with Knock Out, away from the others.

So it was mildly surprising when Dreadwing came in, picked up his cube and two flavor packets, and sat down at an open table end. He nodded politely to a few Vehicons who caught his optics, but was otherwise content to sit quietly. It was a bigger surprise when Knock Out came in, and threw his first fit in what seemed like ages.

“Which one of you took it!?” His voice, long absent from the room, cut like a laser through the easy buzz of conversation. Everyone looked up in confusion, unsure of what he was referring to until they noticed the empty flavor packet container.

“I know I’m the last one here, but there are enough packets put out for everyone to have _one!”_ He snapped, “Need I remind you greedy thieves that the reason I arrive last is because I’m so busy working to keep you all in one piece!? So which of you ungrateful hunks of scrap took my…” Knock Out trailed off, his optics locking on one table. The troops all began to whisper softly in confusion. Those in the back to craned their necks in an attempt to see what he was staring at.

Dreadwing, who had continued to sip quietly at his own cube while Knock Out raged, had shifted his servo ever so slightly on the top of the table. The edge of a silver packet could be seen, the rest of it still hidden.

Knock Out visibly relaxed, his shoulders falling from their stiff hold and his optics losing their angry glare. An emotion passed over his face, something soft, something tender, there and gone in an instant, before he snorted softly. He grabbed his cube of energon and walked over to where Dreadwing sat, cuffing the larger Seeker lightly over the back of the head before sitting across from him. Dreadwing merely smiled slightly before sliding the packet of copper flavoring across the table.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Bulkhead? What’s wrong?” Wheeljack rushed into the washracks, pedes sliding slightly across the wet floor as he hurried to Bulkhead’s side. The larger mech was leaning his forehead against the wall, letting the hot solvent rush down his back as he grit his denta, his face contorted in an expression of pain.

“My leg…my leg is killing me…” Bulkhead had to force the words out. His servos curled into fists.

“Easy…” Wheeljack sets his servos on Bulkhead’s shoulder and side, “Sit down. C’mon, I’ve got you.” He helped his larger lover slide down so he could sit, his legs stretched out in front of him. Bulkhead growled softly to himself when he attempted to move it, closing his optics and letting his head fall back against the wall with a solid _thunk._

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Bulkhead didn’t reopen his optics. “I was just washing off. I shifted my leg and it just _hurt._ Feels like I’m being stabbed…”

“Alright, let me see.” Wheeljack kneeled down and carefully ran his servos down Bulkhead’s right leg. His digits easily slid between gaps in the armor plates to stroke over the underlying cables and wires. Every one of them was strung tighter than a bow string, practically vibrating even as they remained locked in place. “You’re alright. You must’ve just pulled somethin’, or pinched a nerve cluster.” Wheeljack began to massage the cables, remembering the way Ratchet had taught him when he’d first arrived back at the base. “This’ll pass.”

“It’s no use, Jackie…”

“It’s just a spasm, Bulk. You’ll be okay.”

“Stop!” Bulkhead half yelled, lifting his head to look down at Wheeljack. His voice softened, “Stop trying to act like this is nothing.”

“It _is_ nothin’. You’re gonna be fine.”

“This shouldn’t be happening. My body’s giving up on me. It’s like I told you before.” Bulkhead looked away, optics closed again, “I’m useless…”

Wheeljack was silent. He massaged Bulkhead’s leg until the cables finally relaxed and the pain had gone away. Then he moved to sit next to him, taking one of Bulkhead’s large servos between both of his own.

“You aren’t useless, Bulk…You’re gonna be fine.”

They sat together until the solvent stream automatically shut off, their fields mingling together as Wheeljack attempted to silently show his partner exactly how much he meant to him.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Ratchet refused to tell Optimus where he had gotten the visco from.

Evening was falling, and Ratchet had invited Optimus back to his quarters so they could relax for the night.

Ratchet’s room was furbished as officer’s quarters. He had a larger room than most, with a small sitting area in the front and his berth sitting in the back half of the room, which was raised several steps above the main part of the floor. A second door led to a private washrack, and the provided desk that sat opposite the berth was already filled with datapads and tools.

The pair sat together on the couch, a cube of visco in each of their servos. Ratchet was slowly sipping at his. Optimus had yet to touch it.

“What exactly is happening between you and Megatron?”

Optimus looked over at his friend, “What do you mean?”

“You two have hardly looked at each other over the past two days. Everyone can tell that something is happening between you. Neither of you are as discreet as you seem to think you are.”

Optimus looked down at the cube he was idly turning in his servos. His field filled with uncertainly, and he sighed heavily. “I do not know what to do, Ratchet.”

Ratchet shifted closer, setting his visco on the small table in front of them. He watched Optimus for a moment, taking in his body language, the troubled look on his face.

“You know how I feel about Megatron.” He started, noting the way Optimus’ shoulder subtly hunched, sinking farther under a heavy weight only he could feel. “But that’s not important.” Ratchet set a servo on Optimus’ arm, his field open and warm. “Do you think we can trust him?”

Optimus was quiet for a moment, mulling the question over. “Yes…and no. I believe that he will respect this peace between us until Airachnid and Silas have been defeated. Once that task has been completed…I do not know.” He sighed again and rubbed a servo over his face. “I should not be getting close to him again…but I feel that this is my last chance to change his mind. My last chance to show him how far he has strayed from his original path.”

Ratchet nodded slowly. “Honestly, Optimus, if you still hope to influence Megatron…you’re right. This _is_ your last chance. I highly doubt that he will be willing to make another truce like this again.”

“I was thinking the same thing…”

“I know you want to end this peacefully, but promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again if this ends badly…”

Optimus set his servo over Ratchet’s. “I do not want to see you hurt if I make the wrong decision…”

Ratchet squeezed Optimus’ arm gently, “We trust your judgement. If anyone can bring this war to a peaceful end…it’s you.”

“Thank you, Ratchet.” Optimus smiled softly, “I hope I continue to be worthy of your trust.”

“You’ve yet to let us down.” Ratchet stood, “Now.” He went over to his desk and picked up a third cube of visco. He returned to Optimus, holding it out to him. “Take this, and your cube. Go talk to Megatron.”

Optimus hesitated for a moment before taking the cube and pushing himself to his pedes, “I suppose we do have work to do.”

“No, Optimus. No work. _Talk_ to him.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus knocked lightly against Megatron’s door, his spark beginning to pound with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. They had talked before; in Optimus’ room, on the bridge…

_Neither of those moments were planned. They happened on their own. It is completely different to plan a casual conversation with a mech I-_

The door opened, pulling Optimus from his thoughts. Megatron blinked, optic ridges raising slightly.

“Optimus. I thought you had retired with Ratchet.”

“We talked.” Optimus held up the visco, “I brought drinks.”

Megatron narrowed his optics at the cube, “Is that from Starscream’s stash?”

“I…do not know. Ratchet gave it to me. Though, he would not tell me where he had gotten it…”

Megatron accepted the offered cube and took a sip. A low hum rumbled through his chest, “This is definitely from Starscream’s stash. He brought it out once before.” He opened the door a little wider, stepping back, “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you.” Optimus stepped through, his shoulder brushing against Megatron’s as he passed him. Their fields instantly attempted to weave together once more, and both of them quickly stepped away from each other. The neutral tone in the air became heavy with awkward tension.

Optimus moved farther into the room as Megatron shut the door, both of them quiet.

Megatron’s quarters were much like Ratchet’s, though larger. The sitting area was off to one side and sunken shallowly into the floor, while the berth was set on its own raised area, providing the room with a three layered look. He also had his own washracks, and a wide window by his berth.

Optimus slowly went down the two small steps that led into the sitting area and sat on the couch, taking his first sip of visco as he did. It was light and smooth on his glossa, warm as it slid down his throat, and settled pleasantly in his tank. The charge was noticeable on the first sip. Optimus would have to be careful not to drink it too quickly.

“I imagine you want to finish going over the details of our truce.” Megatron moved toward his desk, “I am almost finished reading the write up you gave me.”

“Actually, Megatron, I just came to talk.” Megatron paused, glancing toward him questioningly. Optimus raised his cube slightly, “I do not imagine we would get much work done while drinking this.”

“No. I don’t imagine we would.” Megatron lumbered over to join Optimus on the couch.

Both of them sipped their drinks, not knowing what to say.

“Has there been any sign of Soundwave?”

“No. The Vehicons have been combing through every available camera and surveillance feed. There has been no sign of him, or Airachnid.”

“MECH is very good at hiding.”

“Obviously.”

Optimus slowly turned his cube in his servos. Megatron took a slow drink.

“I…talked to Knock Out. After our…discussion.”

“I would call it a disagreement.” Optimus said. “How is he? I have not had the chance to talk with him.”

“He is angry with me.” Megatron leaned back, “and still grieving. But Dreadwing seems to be helping him heal. I believe it is in Knock Out’s best interest if I do not attempt to _comfort_ him. That has never been my strong suit.”

“What made you decide to speak with him? You seemed very unhappy about my observations that night.”

Megatron inhaled and exhaled slowly, “I could not push the conversation out of my head.” He glanced at Optimus from the corner of his optics, “You’re fairly infuriating that way.”

“My sincere apologies.” Optimus said dryly. Megatron gave a small huff of amusement.

“How are your troops adjusting to the _Nemesis_?”

“Ratchet seems to enjoy having access to a full medical bay again. However, Smokescreen and Bumblebee were having a conversation about racing around one of the lower levels. We will have to watch out for that.”

“It would not be the first time someone has tried that.”

Optimus gave a small smile and took another sip of his drink.

“How is your ankle healing?”

He looked down at his injured leg, shifting it slightly so that the dulled weld line caught the light. “It is healing well.” His gaze shifted to Megatron, “How is your wound?”

Megatron shifted, glancing down at his side. “It is fine. I will be healed in no time.”

Silence fell over them again as the memory of the bridge resurfaced. Optimus leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his optics on his cube. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“What were you thinking in that moment?”

Megatron tapped a digit against the side of his cube, his optics dimming as he thought. “I was thinking of how much I missed moments like that. Then I thought about how I never realized that I missed moments like that.”

Optimus gave a small nod, “I was thinking about how familiar your touch was. I was remembering the last time we had shared a moment like that.”

“The gladiator pits.” Megatron murmured, “The acid spitting machine Shockwave built.” If Optimus had looked back at the warlord, he would have seen a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You barely let me get out of the pit before you started trying to tend to me.”

“You had a habit of letting small wounds go untreated.” Optimus countered, but he was beginning to smile as well.

“Because they were small and capable of healing on their own.”

“Even the smallest wound can be deadly.” Optimus looked over his shoulder, meeting Megatron’s optics.

Megatron inclined his head slightly, “I suppose they can be.”

Optimus looked away again, taking a full drink of the visco before setting the cube down. “We should not be doing this. What happened on the bridge should not have happened.”

“Perhaps not.” Megatron leaned forward now, setting his cube down as he shifted a little closer. “But it did. Neither of us can pretend it didn’t.”

“No, we cannot.” Optimus inhaled deeply before facing Megatron fully. “What happens after they have been defeated?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Once we have taken care of Silas and Airachnid, what are you planning to do?”

“I have a datapad on my desk that says we will still have a truce. So I imagine I will be harvesting energon and working with you and the rest of the Autobots.”

“That is what I am hoping for. We have had that conversation. I am asking what _you_ plan to do. Our last truce ended the moment we no longer needed to work together. That was no surprise, we started the truce with that knowledge in the open. And while we discussed the possibility of this one lasting longer, I know what you what, and that is what concerns me.”

“Oh? And what is it I want?”

“To rule.”

“And why exactly does that concern you?”

The tension in the room shifted, turning from awkward to angry before either of them realized. Optimus continued to watch Megatron with a level gaze, his voice calm and even.

“It concerns me, because I fear that you are becoming like the very people you first fought against.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed, but Optimus continued.

“You began your rebellion on the basis that everyone deserved freedom; that everyone deserved a chance to follow their own path. You spoke against the caste systems, the oppression they caused, and the unfair balance in power.”

“And now?” Megatron’s growled, a challenge and a warning.

“Now, you rule your warship through fear. Your reprimands contain threats, your orders are never questioned. Starscream chose not to return to you, Knock Out is angry with you, your troops are afraid to disagree with you, is that not the very same type of rule that you fought against?”

“How I run my ship is not your concern.”

“If we are to work together, that it is.” Optimus refused to back down from the topic, “Your stance has changed. Surely you have to see that.”

“I continue to fight to rebuild a world where Cybertronians can be free!”

“And what do you mean by free, Megatron? Truly free, or free as long as you allow it?”

Megatron jumped to his pedes, field crackling with anger. Optimus was up in an instant, his body responding with speed born from centuries of practice.

“You really have believed their lies.” Megatron snarled, “I knew that the Council was trying to turn you against me. I knew they were filling your head with stories, twisting what I fought for into something you should fear. You bought into it. You fell into their trap!”

“There was no trap, Megatron.” Optimus said calmly, “You have changed. I saw that when you spoke before the Council, before they had even acknowledged my presence I know. We are not there now. This is a vastly different time. Just listen to what I have to say, you have to realize-”

“I realize that you are still their puppet!” Megatron shouted, “Get out!”

Optimus raised his servos, attempting to show Megatron that he did not want this to go any farther. “Alright.” He moved toward the door, leaving his cube of visco behind. The door slid open, but before he stepped out, Optimus looked one last time at Megatron, “I have never been their puppet. I agreed with you from the start, Megatron. I have always stood beside your original values.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving them both alone with the silence.

 

_ Day Five _

The Autobots were excited, and it was freaking everyone else out.

All of them were waiting in the hall outside the medical bay, drawing the attention of all the Decepticon troops who were passing by. Smokescreen and Arcee were sitting across from each other on either side of the hall, the former impatiently drumming his digits along the floor. Arcee made no move to stop him, and whenever they made optic contact, they would exchange smiles filled with nervous excitement. Bumblebee seemed unable to stay still, though he was trying his best as he shifted his weight from pede to pede, door wings flicking through every possible position. His optics were locked on the door leading into the medical bay. Wheeljack made no attempt to relax as he impatiently paced in a tight circle. Optimus was the only one who seemed relaxed and controlled, though his hovering presence suggested something big.

Tripline and Lightyear, who had just passed by on their way to the bridge, exchanged a glance. Lightyear shrugged, curious but not wanting to ask.

“Should we call Megatron?”

“Why? Because Optimus is here?”

“Because the Wrecker looks antsy, and things blow up when Wreckers get antsy.”

“Take a breath, Tripline, we’ll be fine.”

Regardless of any spoken reassurances, there was a decent collection of Decepticons clustered at the ends of the wall, peering out curiously at the gathered Autobots. Nothing happened for a long few moment. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the door slid open to allow Ratchet to exit. All movement stopped. Wheeljack paused, one pede half raised from the floor, to stare at the medic, and then at Bulkhead when he lumbered out behind him.

Ratchet smiled, “I’m happy to announce that Bulkhead is fit and ready for duty. He’s ready to be out in the field again.”

The hall echoed as Smokescreen and Wheeljack each let out a loud whoop, and Bumblebee’s high pitched binary keen of excitement bounced off the metal walls. Bulkhead grinned proudly. Optimus gave his own small smile, stepping forward to put a servo on his shoulder.

“Welcome back, Bulkhead. We have missed having you out there with us.”

“It feels good to be back, sir.” Bulkhead smiled up at him.

Unseen by them, the gathered Vehicons murmured softly, many of them feeling an odd tinge of jealousy in their sparks as they watched the interaction. Say what you want about the Autobots, at least their leader seemed to appreciate them. If they ever got injured under Megatron’s command, it was their own fault.

“Alright, alright, c’mon my turn.” Wheeljack shooed Bumblebee away after the scout had come forward to congratulate Bulkhead on his recovery (receiving a strut bending hug in thanks for his efforts). Bulkhead smiled broadly, opening his arms to hug the smaller Wrecker, only for Wheeljack to surprise them all when he reached up and pulled Bulkhead down for a deep and eager kiss.

Smokescreen’s jaw dropped. Arcee grinned.

“I knew it.”

Ratchet gave an exasperated sound, “Finally.”

Wheeljack pulled away, grinning at the happy but shocked look on Bulkhead’s face.

“I’m proud of you, Bulk.”

“Thanks Jackie.” Bulkhead smiled a little wider, “That was…an odd way to tell the others about us.”

Arcee and Ratchet simultaneously announced, “We already knew.”

Smokescreen looked wildly around the group. “I didn’t!”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Even those who disliked Bulkhead (read: most of the Decepticons) found themselves in a cheerful mood when Optimus shared Ratchet’s announcement. After everything that had happened, it was nice to get some happy, hopeful news on board. Unfortunately, all good things had to end eventually.

It was nearly midnight when the call came in.

_“Prime!”_

And just like that, the joy was gone. The bridge went deadly quiet at the sound of obvious but controlled fear coming through the speakers. Optimus rushed forward to take the call, quickly absorbing the frenzied sounds of alarms and humans shouting that threatened to drown out Agent Fowler.

“The base is under attack! I think Silas found us!” He ducked on reflex when something exploded off screen. Dust fell from the ceiling.

“Where are the others?” Optimus slid his battle mask into place as the others moved closer, worry evident on their faces.

“June is getting them ready to go! We need help out here! ARGH!” Another explosion caused the entire room to shake, and Agent Fowler disappeared off screen as he was knocked to the ground from the force of it. Off camera, they could hear a familiar voice screaming.

“Miko!” Bulkhead looked ready to try to jump through the screen.

“Optimus, I’ll have the others ready to go, just get here, ASAP!” Fowler picked himself off the ground and ran from the room. He left the call connected, and they could hear the rise in volume when the door was opened. There was the sound of loud blaster fire, and another panicked yell could be hear over Fowler yelling for the kids.

 _::Raf!::_ Bumblebee’s optics were wide.

“We have to get out there!” Arcee yelled.

“Open a ground bridge!” It was Megatron who shouted the order from the front of the room. Within seconds, the green vortex appeared, and the Autobots disappeared into it before anyone had realized they were moving.

“Tell Dreadwing to be ready to bridge in if I call for him!” Megatron snapped at a Vehicon before charging through the portal himself. If Soundwave was there, he was going to bring him back.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The only call that came in was for an emergency bridge back to the ship. Wheeljack raced through it before it had fully expanded, his horn blaring in a warning for anyone who might have been in his path. His tires screeched angrily when they touched the metal floors of the _Nemesis,_ but that hardly slowly him down as he shot out of the bridge and into the hall horn still blaring.

Megatron and the rest of the Autobots followed. Arcee came in with Jack, who was covered from head to toe in dirt and dust, and seemed to be having a hard time letting go of her handle bars. There was thin trickle of blood coming from a cut on his lower right leg, and an angry red mark across his arms suggested he had tried to catch something hot. Miko emerged from Bulkhead’s vehicle mood, her legs shaking and face lacking its usual grin. When Bulkhead picked her up, she hugged his thumb and closed her eyes, unusually silent.

Bumblebee was forced to transform around Raf when he could not coax the youngest human out of his alt mode. It did not seem to even phase the small human, as he simply hugged his knees and curled up in Bumblebee’s palm.

Everyone noticed Optimus’ fists clench when he saw the blood that covered half of Raf’s body.

The room was silent, even Megatron only watched grimly as Bumblebee attempted to get the human to talk, worriedly whirring and beeping, his door wings plastered to his back.

::You’re safe now…please Raf you need to talk to us…are you hurt? Primus Raf there’s so much blood on you…”

“It’s not mine…” Raf’s voice was hoarse and trembling. “It’s not my blood…it’s not my blood…”

 

_ Day Six _

The blood turned out to be from Fowler.

Once June was able to tell them with absolute certainly that he was going to be okay, the children began to relax, though it was clear that they were all very shaken by what had happened.

The cut and burns on Jack’s body had come from him attempting to catch a falling piece of burning pipe before it could fall on Miko’s head while they were running. The blood had come from a deep cut on Fowler’s arm when a window he had been standing next to shattered.

“He was really lucky mom was right there…” Jack said quietly. “The glass cut his brachial artery…if she hadn’t been there to pinch it shut…”

No one pressed him for further details.

__

_ Day Ten _

“That’s it…a little to the left…just a bit harder…mmm…” Knock Out closed his optics, relaxed. Dreadwing chuckled deeply behind him.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He slowly moved the buffer across the top of Knock Out’s hips, allowing his optics to roam appreciatively down the medic’s back. It was a very nice view after all.

“So are you.” Knock Out grinned slightly, “I can feel it in your field.”

“I do find it relaxing.” Dreadwing smiled to himself, “Though I am very busy, as Megatron’s first lieutenant. I hope you appreciate the time I spent helping you buff out your nightly chips and scratches.”

“You help put those scratches there, you can help removed them.” Knock Out retorted, “And don’t you dare ‘accidently’ miss a spot. I know you left that streak of blue there on purpose yesterday!”

Dreadwing grinned, “Do not worry, Knock Out. I will be sure to be extremely thorough.” He drew the buffer down over Knock Out’s aft.

The sound his action drew from the mech in front of him was music to his audio receivers.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“I knew you two were in love with each other! I knew it, I knew it, _I knew it!”_

Bulkhead had to resist the urge to cup his servos under Wheeljack’s as Miko jumped and danced around his palm. She had recovered quickly from the shock of losing the military base, too excited and eager to learn about the _Nemesis_ and the reason they were there to dwell on it. Though she had become very solemn when they had finished telling her about the slave coding.

Now, however, she was celebrating the newest round of news.

“When did it happen? Who kissed who first? Do you guys have sex? _Can_ you have sex? Are you going to get married!?”

“Miko!” Bulkhead groaned and covered his face with one servo. Wheeljack just laughed.

“A long time ago, he kissed me, yes, _frag yes,_ and…dunno. Haven’t talked about that yet.”

Miko danced around his palm again, continuing to happily ask questions as they walked. The Wreckers let her go, glad to see she was still herself.

Bulkhead reached for Wheeljack’s servo, smiling brightly when Wheeljack linked their digits together and gave a small squeeze.

They would have to have a very important conversation later.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus finally managed to find Megatron alone.

Ever since he had been kicked out of the others berth room, it had been hard to find time to have a private conversation again. That fact could not really be blamed on anyone; the ship had been busy with the new arrivals, complications at the mines, three false reports of Soundwave sightings, and a long night of attempting to herd a group of overcharged Vehicons, plus Smokescreen, back to their rooms.

But now, it was just the two of them on the bridge again. This time, Optimus did not hesitate to approach.

“Thank you for allowing the humans to stay here with us.”

Megatron looked over his shoulder as Optimus approached. “I am not sparkless, Optimus. Despite what many of you Autobots think of me.”

“I have never thought of you as sparkless.” Optimus said honestly. “I was simply thanking you for accepting our friends into your domain. The gesture is greatly appreciated.”

Megatron nodded once to show he had heard.

The tension was back between them. Megatron had, once again, been unable to remove Optimus’ words from his mind, and Optimus was hesitant to return to the topic, for fear of pushing Megatron farther away. Still…it was a discussion they needed to have.

“Do you know why I want to rule?” Megatron asked before Optimus could decide how he wanted to start the conversation.

“I would be very interested in your reasoning.”

Megatron opened his mouth, ready to speak, but the sound of the door opening as Vehicons came in for their surveillance shift interrupted him. He sighed instead.

“Would you be available to come to my room tonight?”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Ratchet gave Optimus another cube of visco for the night’s discussion.

At the moment, it was still sitting untouched, split into two separate cubes, as Optimus and Megatron faced each other on the couch.

“You have heard my speeches.” Megatron began, “You know my history, my origins, you were there to witness a large portion of my rebellion.

“I was. I understood why you began your movement. I agreed with what you said.”

“Yet you do not agree with the idea of me ruling.”

“Please, tell me why I should.”

“Because I am the only one who can.”

Optimus inclined his head and waited. He wanted Megatron to continue, he wanted to know what was going on in his mind. Maybe, if he understood the way he was thinking, he could help to show him the errors he had made.

Megatron leaned his side against the back of the couch.

“I started as nothing. I was pulled from the Well, given a job, denied a name, and sent to the mines, where they expected me to die.”

Optimus had heard this before, but he did not interrupt. If starting from the beginning helped Megatron make his point, he would not stop him.

“You never saw the mines, Optimus. Not like you saw the pits. They were dark, they were cramped, filled with machinery and mechs and tiny berths for us to sleep on. We could go solar cycles without seeing the surface, left far below to harvest the metals and ores for construction. Many mechs signed up for the pits just to have the chance to breathe fresh air.”

“Why did you?” Optimus leaned forward slightly.

Megatron looked into his optics. “To be heard. I realized that we were purposefully being left in those conditions; that no one cared about our wellbeing. No one was going to care if we died. It was not fair. It was not _right._ ”

“So you began to protest the caste system.”

“I did more than that. I became a champion gladiator. I made a name for myself. I made sure I was going to be heard. And then, I planned. I began to read, to investigate, to learn, and I realized that we did not need that oppressive system. There was no need for a hierarchy. No one had the right to dictate what someone else’s life was going to amount to. I wanted to end the caste system. I wanted to remake Cybertron, to reawaken the glory that had been lost. I wanted to make Cybertron great once more.”

Optimus nodded slowly to show that he understood. He had heard much of this information before, scattered through many speeches, woven into casual conversations, murmured late at night…

“Why are you the only one capable of leading Cybertron to that glory?”

“Because I am the only one willing to take action, and see it through to the end.”

Once more, Optimus waited for an explanation.

“I was not the first person to protest the system. There were several before me who attempted to end it. But every single one of them failed. They made it in front of the Council, then left the issue in their servos. Each time the problem was discussed, and discussed, and discussed, until everyone from the highest Prime to the lowliest beggar was exhausted by the topic. It would be swept aside, abandoned and forgotten, and nothing would change. When I decided that I was going to change Cybertron, I swore to myself that I would not leave it in the servos of those who upheld a stagnant practice. I had a plan for Cybertron, a vision I wanted to see carried out, and I was not going to let those who wish to see the caste system thrive stop me.”

Megatron dropped his optics to Optimus’ chest. “That is why I wanted the Matrix. As a Prime, with that power, I could turn Cybertron into anything I wanted it to be. No one would question my authority. I could have led Cybertron into a second Golden Age.”

Optimus leaned back slightly, reaching toward the table to pick up his drink. “Being a Prime is not about having absolute control over those around you.”

“Primes are meant to rule.”

“Primes are meant to _lead._ There is a difference.”

Megatron growled low in his chest. “If I had been given the title, I would have _led_ our people into a different future.”

Optimus sighed softly before standing. “My concern, Megatron, comes from the fact that I do not think you truly understand the difference.”

He was out the door before Megatron even thought of chasing after him.

 

_ Day Thirteen _

Something was off. No one could tell what it was, exactly, but everyone could feel it. A rising tension, thick and heavy in the air, like the calm before a massive storm.

Knock Out’s nightmares returned, worse than before. Twice Ratchet found himself sprinting from his room to Knock Out’s to check on his fellow medic. Dreadwing, who had practically moved into Knock Out’s room, would meet him at the door, softly telling him that the situation was handled.

Ratchet never told the Seeker that he could hear the muffled sobs.

Starscream became restless, his dreams filled with Insecticons and images of a gutted Soundwave. He never screamed, not like Knock Out, but the effects were obvious. It made Laserbeak anxious.

Smokescreen got into a yelling match with the same Vehicons he had gotten overcharged with over an evening meal. When asked why they were fighting, none of them could give a reasonable answer.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing had already broken into full out fists fights twice, and from the way they continued to glare at each other, there were going to be more.

None of these matters were helped by the continued false alarms on Soundwave’s presence. Everyone was on edge, jumping at the slightly crackle of the intercom system, ready to run through a ground bridge at the slightest bit of prompting.

And, to top it all off, Optimus and Megatron were more charged than a lightning storm. They watched each other warily, movements overly controlled, voices overly calm. The tension was worse than watching two animals circle each other, never knowing when they would suddenly lunge. They were becoming more and more dangerous as time wore on. Like dry tinder and a match, one spark had the potential to start a violent blaze.

 

_ Day Twenty _

The spark caught.

The conversation had started off as a simple planning session. But tensions were too high, tempers too sharp. They were all exhausted, angry, and ready to blow. Five more military bases had been attacked. Five more dangerous fights carried out in the hopes of catching Soundwave. Five miserable failures as false alarms.

It was too much. Something had to give.

“I still do not agree that a full assault is the best course of action.”

“Soundwave has not been present at any of their recent attacks. If MECH will not allow him to face me, I will find him myself.”

“We have no way of knowing what kind of defenses they have mounted. Airachnid has the entire Insecticon army under her command, and Silas continues to gain more advanced technology. Until we can find out more, you will be attempting to fight them blind. That is not going to help Soundwave.”

Megatron growled, “If you are not willing to help me, get out of my way!” He pushed Optimus away from the monitors with one arm, stepping closer to better see the map they had been working over. Optimus took a moment to breathe, forcing himself to remain calm. But everyone could tell that it was becoming more and more difficult for him.

“I am trying to help you. I am trying to explain to you that what you are planning is-”

“Do not tell me how to strategize!” Megatron snarled, “I took control of more than half of Cybertron without your help! I know what I am doing!”

“We have fought against MECH more than you have, Megatron.” Optimus was clinging to the last of his patience. “They require a different approach.”

“They are humans!”

“You have already made the mistake of underestimating them. And it cost Breakdown his optic.” The words can out sharper than Optimus had intended. “Do you intend to let this mistake cost your troops their lives?”

Megatron grit his denta together, “I asked for your input to _avoid_ that.”

“And I provided you with my input. What you are proposing is too dangerous.” Optimus tried once more to calm his irritation. “I know you are angry, and concerned about Soundwave-”

“Yes!” Megatron’s shout echoed through the bridge. The Vehicons attempted to ignore it. “I am angry! I am concerned! This is not the first time we have had this conversation! I am doing this _because I am concerned for him!_ ”

“And I am _trying_ to help you! If you want to get him back, and keep everyone else alive, you need to _trust me!”_

“Then give me a reason to!”

Optimus narrowed his optics, “You used to trust my judgement.”

“When I was foolish enough to think that you stood beside me!”

“I stood beside you! I always stood beside you! From the moment we began talking to the moment we stood before the Council! What changed to make you decide I was no longer worthy of your trust!?”

“You betrayed me! You stole what was rightfully mine!”

“ ** _I stole nothing!”_** Optimus bellowed before he could stop himself. All of his frustration, his anger, and the tension from the past few weeks had finally reached the boiling point. If the crew had been able to ignore the growing anger and arguing before, they were unable to do so now. Optimus’ roar, intense and furious, filled the bridge and echoed out into the hallway. They could hear the fading echo in the small moment of silence that followed the outburst, and all eyes turned to lock on the two leaders.

Optimus continued, his voice at a normal volume, though it had lost no heat, and still carried through the silent room, “I was given the title Prime, a title I _did not_ _want_ , because they found me better suited to bear it. I did not know then if I deserved it. I still do not know. But I did not steal it from you.

I told you before we met with the Council that I would stand with you, and speak of the ideals that we _both_ believed in. That is what I did, Megatron. I spoke of freedom, I spoke of dissolving the caste system, I spoke of choice; all things that we _both_ wanted. The only difference between us was your readiness to carry out violence. They made their decision, I accepted it.”

“You fell into their trap!” Megatron snarled, “They wanted to use you! They knew a war was coming, and they feared they would lose without you on their side!”

“The war only came because you brought it upon our world! Together, you and I, we could have stopped it! We could have led Cybertron to peace! I stood beside you, Megatron! You are the one who turned away! You are the one who turned his back on the ideals we fought for! You are the one who started this war! All this pain, all this suffering and bloodshed, it is because of your unwillingness to compromise!”

“This war has been about freedom on Cybertron, and the Councils unwillingness to allow it!”

“If that were true, this would have been over centuries ago!” Optimus was bellowing again, unable to stop the flow of his anger now that the dam had broken, “I have been fighting for peace! I have _always_ fought for peace! You fought to rule! You fought for a title! You fought to gain the matrix! This war, this entire war, has always been about your arrogance and pride!”

Megatron lashed out before the others had finished processing the situation. His fist connected with Optimus’ jaw, sending him stumbling back several steps.

Optimus touched his mouth, grimacing at the pain the extra pressure caused. He spat out energon before turning back to Megatron, his gaze filled more with cold acceptance than with anger now.

“Think, Megatron. What difference did it make, truly? They gave me the title, they changed my name, but what _difference_ did it make? I was still there for you, _because of you._ I wanted to see your goals succeed. You were the one who spoke of us leading the world together. ‘Soon they will chant your name too.’ Do you not remember that? Then the Council handed me a title, and suddenly it was you versus me. What had changed? Why did it make a difference? Why was it so important that _you_ held the title? Answer me that, Megatron. Give me an answer, and I will take back everything I have said these few days. _What difference did it make?”_

Megatron opened his mouth, clearly intending to deliver a scathing retort, to set Optimus in his place and make him choke on his apology.

Only no words came out.

Optimus could see the conflict building in his optics. He could feel it begin to fill the furious field battering against him. Patiently he waited for an answer. None came. He drew himself up to his full height and looked once more at the monitors, and the map that was still displayed there.

“MECH prefers to hide in abandoned buildings. Close to roads, but far from civilization. If you still think you can trust me, then you can follow that advice.”

He turned away, walking down the walk way to the door that led out of the bridge. His steps were steady, his head held tall. He did not pause, he did not look at anyone in the room.

The door slid shut behind him.

Megatron remained silent.

 

_ Day Twenty-one _

Megatron locked his berth room door and took a seat on his couch. Several data pads lay spread out in front of him, each one containing one or more of his speeches, recorded by Soundwave. The time stamps dated the earliest one back to before Megatronus had ever heard the name Orion Pax.

There was something he needed to see for himself.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Knock Out, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee were spotted murmuring together during the evening meal. They fell silent when anyone else approached, and were quick to separate when Optimus entered the room.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing glared at each other until they were forced to break optic contact.

 

_ Day Twenty-two _

Wheeljack and Bulkhead stayed in their room all day. The door was tightly locked, and any attempt to call their comms was met with a quick, practiced answer-hang up combo.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Starscream, with some help, was able to walk a full lap around the medical bay. He was given a list of exercises to do, and promised that his t-cog would be returned to him as soon as he could make the same lap without assistance.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Dreadwing and Knock Out celebrated the little victory late into the night.

 

_ Day Twenty-four _

The call came in from a panicked private to Fowler’s cell. It took several precious seconds for him to convince the called to calm down and describe the attackers, but the time paid off.

Soundwave had been spotted. He was there.

They wasted no time in bridging out to the base. Chaos quickly consumed them, but they were well practiced. The Autobots led the ground forces, Optimus’ deep voice easily carrying orders across the battle as he led the troops into formation. Dreadwing controlled the skies, quickly clearing the way for Megatron to face off with Soundwave.

Concrete crumbled under his pedes when he landed on the floor. “Soundwave! No more games!”

Then he took in his spy’s appearance, and a white hot ball of anger consumed his spark. Even from the back, he could tell that Soundwave was worse off than the last time they had met. He was holding himself wrong; swaying slightly on his knees where he kneeled in front of the human computers, supporting himself more with his servos. Airachnid was breaking him apart, piece by piece.

Megatron could not stop himself from snarling, “You are coming back to the _Nemesis,_ with me, now! I am not letting you get away again.”

He lunged forward, ready to grab and pin Soundwave to the floor. But Soundwave was gone before he could snatch him, and he found himself tumbling through computers and a wall once more. The feeling of déjà vu, knowing how their last encounter had ended, left a sour taste in Megatron’s mouth.

A repeat of that ending was unacceptable. Megatron caught himself quickly, using the extra momentum to rush at Soundwave once more.

Once more he was evaded. Soundwave rolled to one side, avoiding his grasp, and attempted to turn. Megatron’s rage only grew more intense when he saw Soundwave stumble.

Soundwave did not stumble.

But now was not the time to let himself be consumed. Using the minute of weakness to his advantage, Megatron tackled Soundwave to the floor, pinning him down.

“Let me help you!” Megatron avoided being struck by grabbing tightly to Soundwave’s wrist, “We can reverse this!”

But Soundwave continued to fight. He writhed and squirmed like a snake, pushing, testing for a weak spot, an opening to escape. Megatron was so focused on getting him to be still, that he did not notice the cables moving until one wrapped around his neck.

Suddenly the world was flipped, and it took him a moment to realize that he had been thrown to one side.

“ _No!”_ Soundwave was getting away! This could not happen, not again! Megatron scrambled to his pedes just as Soundwave was transforming. He made a desperate lunge and felt the very tip of his digits barely graze against Soundwave’s tail fins. Then Soundwave was gone, disappearing over the lip of the hole. In the short amount of time it took for Megatron to transform and follow him out, he had disappeared, and the Insecticons were retreating in one large cloud.

They had lost him again.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Megatron almost didn’t hear the quiet knock on his door. He did not rise from his berth to answer it, choosing instead to remain seated, his head cradled in his servos. Exhaustion was all he felt; physically, mentally, and emotionally.

So close. He had been _so close_ , but Soundwave had slipped away from him yet again. And there was no telling what Airachnid was going to do to him this time.

The touch on his shoulder made him jump. His helm shot up to quickly face the insane mech who had entered without his permission.

Optimus stood before him, optics filled with concern and understanding.

To say that Megatron was surprise would be an understatement. They had not spoken to each other since their fight on the bridge. Megatron knew he would have to talk to him eventually, about many things, including what he had seen while rewatching his old speeches, but there had been no time. Now Optimus was here, and Megatron did not know what to say.

“We are going to get him back…” Optimus murmured, his servo still on Megatron’s shoulder. His field was calm and soothing, and Megatron found that he was too tired to resist the draw he felt.

He allowed his own field to extend, filled with anger and despair, and mingle with Optimus’. They wove together instantly, and Megatron did not fight the desire to lean forward and rest his helm against Optimus’ stomach plating. Optimus moved his servo to stroke along the back of Megatron’s head and neck.

“If you want me to leave, I will.” He murmured softly, almost a whisper.

Megatron slowly lifted his servos, letting the come to rest on sturdy blue hips. The steady field, the solid presence, both worked to allow Megatron to ground himself. This was nice, this was safe. He closed his optics.

“Stay…”

_ Day Thirty-two _

“What do you mean you can’t find them?” Megatron turned to face a slightly nervous Tripline.

“Knock Out, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee are unaccounted for, sir. We’ve looked everywhere for them. Ratchet said he hasn’t seen them all day.”

Optimus, who was standing next to Megatron, drew his optic ridges together, concerned, “That is not like Bumblebee to disappear without a word.”

“Knock Out only disappears when he wants to race.” Megatron rubbed his temple, “I do not know if I should be angry that he has vanished, or pleased that he has recovered enough to want to race.” He sighed, “Thank you, Tripline. Return to your post.”

“Yes sir.” Tripline turned away, “Oh, did you send Dreadwing out for surveillance?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I couldn’t find him either.” Tripline left to return to his workstation. Optimus and Megatron exchanged a look.

“I suppose the next course of action would be to call them until one of them answers.” Megatron said flatly.

“And hope that none of them have turned off their comm systems.”

They turned to make their way to the bridge.

“It is rather odd for Dreadwing to vanish.”

“Perhaps he accompanied Knock Out? If he did leave to find a place to race, Dreadwing could have followed him to keep watch.”

“Where do you think your scouts have wandered off to?”

Optimus sighed, “In all honesty, it would not surprise me to learn that they have gone off for a drive themselves. Tension has been high.”

“It has been…”

The door to the bridge slid open.

“Megatron? Is that you?”

Both of them froze at the sound of Airachnid’s voice. Lightyear turned toward them from his spot at the communications monitor. His optical band was dim, “The call just came in, sir…”

“Airachnid.” Megatron growled, moving closer to the monitor. “I will find you. You cannot hide from me forever!”

“Temper, temper Megatron. I only called to ask a question. Is Optimus there with you?”

“I am here, Airachnid.” Optimus stood beside Megatron, jaw clenched.

“Oh good, then I won’t have to repeat myself.” They could hear the grin creeping into her voice. “Have either of you done a head count lately? You seem to be a few men short.”

Two pairs of optics slowly widened.

“Really you two, how can you ever hope to find me, when you can’t even keep track of the people you have? Oh well. Perhaps the reduction of troops will help you manage them better.” She laughed cruelly, “I’ll see you boys soon.”

“AIRACHNID!” Megatron roared. But the call was cut before he could demand answers.

Optimus quickly turned to the Vehicons, “Call the others. Now.”

They jumped to the task, frantically calling the missing members of their crew. Optimus turned back to Megatron, setting a servo on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

“We have a bridge request!” Lightyear called out, already typing in the command to open the bridge.

Everyone waited with baited breath as the vortex open. The sound of roaring engines could be heard, then three quick blurs of color, red, white, yellow, came through and screeched to a halt on the bridge. Optimus and Megatron stared at them, both of them at a loss for words.

“We were…um…” Smokescreen started to think of an excuse for their absence.

“Is Dreadwing with you?” Megatron recovered first, turning his attention to Knock Out.

“No.” Knock Out transformed, slightly wary at not being shouted at for sneaking off, “He was sleeping when I left.”

“He isn’t sleeping now.” Megatron turned to the Vehicons who were still frantically making calls, “Anything?”

“No, Lord Megatron.” One of them looked over at him, his servo beginning to shake on the keyboard. “The calls aren’t even going through…”

Megatron closed his optics, his fists clenching tightly.

“What’s going on?” Knock Out looked from person to person, his spark beginning to pound in his chest. “Where’s Dreadwing? What happened?”

“Megatron…” Optimus felt his tanks beginning to roll with an unease he hadn’t felt in a long time, “She said ‘men’. Plural.”

“She? _Airachnid!?”_ Knock Out felt his lines beginning to run cold, “Where is Dreadwing!?”

“Optimus…” Smokescreen swallowed nervously, “What are you two talking about?”

“Dreadwing is the only one missing.” Megatron focused on one conversation, attempting to stay calm even as he yearned to break everything in sight. “Who else could see be referring to?”

“I do not know…” Optimus faced the three mechs, concern washing through him at the look of growing, unrestrained panic that was present on Knock Out’s face. The door opening distracted him from telling them about the call as all optics moved to look at the new arrival.

“Has anyone seen Jackie?” Bulkhead came onto the bridge, momentarily oblivious to the tense and anxious atmosphere filling the room. “He was gone when I woke up. He wasn’t in the rec room so I figured he’d…be here…” His voice trailed off as Knock Out slowly sank to his knees, body trembling hard enough to make the pauldrons on his shoulders rattle against each other. “What happened?”

Smokescreen and Bumblebee exchanged fearful looks, the pieces finally clicking in place.

“Guys?” Bulkhead looked from Knock Out’s trembling frame, to his teammates fear filled expression, to Optimus’ grim one. Fear began to settle in his spark. “G-guys? What happened? What’s wrong?

_Where’s Jackie?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Megatron and Optimus are both stubborn SOBs who refuse to do anything I tell them to do.  
> I might have to come back to this chapter a rewrite a few things...*shrugs*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was late...again. This chapter was much more difficult to write than I thought it would be. I had eight different directions it could go in and none of them seemed good enough.
> 
> I'd like to say thank you to everyone who commented on last weeks chapter. They really meant a lot. This week was a little rough for me and the comments made me smile, so...thank you :)

They gave up trying to contact them.

Every call to Dreadwing and Wheeljack’s comm link was met with static, if they made it through at all. Bulkhead shakily reported that _The Jackhammer_ was missing from where Wheeljack had parked it on top of the _Nemesis,_ before he collapsed heavily in a chair and covered his face with his servos.

Knock Out had to be physically moved off the bridge. He was shaking too hard to stand on his own.

Megatron and Optimus called for an emergency meeting, which was broadcasted over the ships audio/visual feed so that those who could not fit in the room could hear what was happening. Bumblebee and Smokescreen sat on either side of Bulkhead, the former placing a comforting servo on his arm. Arcee took a seat on the other side of Smokescreen, noting with concern that he was getting the same look he had had when Starscream had first been rushed into their base. She lightly touched his servo, and was slightly surprised when he quickly turned his palm face up so he could hold her servo tightly. Arcee gave a small squeeze before turning her attention to Optimus.

Several Vehicons and Eradicons, including Lightyear and Tripline, filtered into the room silently, their optical bands dim with worry. Ratchet arrived last with the humans and Starscream, who was slowly limping along with one crutch under his right arm and Laserbeak in his left.

Agent Fowler wasted no time, hurrying across the table to stand in front of Optimus, while the kids went to their guardians and June stayed with Ratchet. All of them looked scared and worried.

“What’s happening?”

Optimus took a slow breath to steady himself.

“Dreadwing and Wheeljack are missing.”

The room erupted in scared chatter and filled with intermingling fields that were swirling with confusion and fear. Miko swallowed and quickly hugged Bulkhead’s arm.

“Optimus,” Fowler’s voice somehow carried throughout the area, putting an end to the murmurs as everyone quieted to hear. “Are you sure they didn’t just…sneak off?”

“Dreadwing is not one to sneak away.” Megatron rumbled.

“And Wheeljack would know to leave his commlink open if he did leave.” Optimus said gravely, “Their frequencies are blocked. We cannot get in contact with either of them.”

“Just like Soundwave…” Lightyear murmured softly.

An uneasy silence fell over the room, heavy with a foreboding sense of danger and sharpened with the beginning edge of panic.

“Have we gotten any closer to finding MECHs base?” Ratchet asked quietly, though the question carried easily.

“No.” Megatron was trying to hold himself just like he always did: standing tall, arms behind his back, voice brisk and down to business. But he held himself too stiffly, as if he had to force himself to hold the position. “Even with the help of the humans’ military surveillance, we have made no progress.” It was obvious how much that frustrated him.

“They’re being quiet.” Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, “We can’t track activity that isn’t there. Of course, it helps that they wipe out any of our equipment that could be used to track them whenever they pay a visit.”

“Can’t we do what we did when they made Nemesis Prime?” Miko asked, still hugging Bulkhead’s arm. Her question was met with just as much confusion as it was contemplation.

“Unfortunately, no.” Optimus ignored the questioning looks for the moment, “At that time, we could map out possible locations by finding a common area between attack points and factoring in driving time. The Insecticons fly, and all of the attacks thus far have been spread out, both in time and in distance. There is no way of knowing which locations are close and which required time for travel. It makes finding possible locations a much more difficult task.”

“So we have no way to find them.” Starscream sat heavily next to Knock Out, still holding Laserbeak. Knock Out did not look up from the table.

“At this moment,” Megatron took a slow breath, “No. We do not know where to find them.”

Bulkhead drew in a deep breath, slowly lowering his arms to the table. His optics were dim and beginning to glisten. “What do we do?”

“We continue to try to track them down.”

“Because that has yielded such wonderful results.” Starscream sneered. Megatron shot him a glare, but it lacked a lot of its usual sharpness. “Surely you have a better plan than simply monitoring this festering mud ball for activity.”

“Sending out patrols out for more detailed exploration is far too dangerous.” Optimus said, “We have already lost three crew members. I will not allow more to be put at risk for capture.”

“Optimus, with all due respect, I don’t think we have a choice anymore.” Arcee leaned forward on the table, “We might not have time to continue waiting for them to just show up.”

“There is a time and place to take chances, Arcee. This is not one of them.”

“We need time to evaluate our next move.” Megatron set his servos on the table, looking around at everyone gathered. “Everyone is to stay on board this ship until we have decided. I want round the clock surveillance.”

“I’ll call the Pentagon.” Fowler pulled out his phone as he spoke, “They might be able to mobilize ground units that Silas won’t see coming.”

“Can I help?” Raf spoke up from his spot next to Bumblebee, “Maybe there’s a pattern to their attacks that no one’s seen yet.”

“Your assistance is always appreciated, Rafael.”

“I’ll show him the map.” Lightyear stepped forward, “Uh, if his guardian is okay with it.”

Bumblebee nodded once to grant permission.

“You are all dismissed.”

The room began to empty. Worried murmurs sounded from the group of Vehicons as they left. Several of them left the room at a dead run, not wanting to waste time that could be spent attempting to track down the others. The Autobots moved forward to talk to Bulkhead, their fields filled with concern. Bumblebee kept one servo on his arm in support, only looking away to watch when Lightyear moved forward to pick up Raf. Raf gave him a small smile and a reassuring nod before allowing himself to be carried away.

“Bulkhead,” Optimus approached him, his voice soft, “We will find Wheeljack. We will get him back.”

Bulkhead looked up at him, his optics filled with fear and pain, but also trust. He gave a small nod, “Thank you, Optimus.”

“You should take this time to rest.”

::I’ll take him back to his room.:: Bumblebee stood up, keeping a steady servo on Bulkhead’s arm as he did the same.

“I’m coming too.” Miko hopped into Bumblebee’s outstretched servo.

“I’m going to go help the Vehicons with surveillance.” Smokescreen stood up. His optics still had that distant look, but he was out the door before Arcee or Optimus could say anything about it.

Ratchet turned his attention to Starscream. “Come on. You should get back to the medical bay.” He moved forward to help the Seeker stand.

Starscream waved him off, “I have my own medic.” He turned to Knock Out.

“Starscream,” Megatron looked between him and Knock Out, “Let Ratchet take you back.”

He was waved off as well.

“Knock Out.” Starscream nudged the medic next to him, pulling him out of whatever thoughts he had been lost in. “Your patient requires assistance.”

Knock Out blinked at him, not moving.

“Come now, _doctor,_ we require you to do your job.”

“Starscream,” Ratchet sounded exasperated, “I am more than capable of-”

“No,” Knock Out’s voice was low, but somehow steady, “I’ll do it.” He pushed himself out of his chair. Starscream stood up with some assistance, and together they moved toward the door.

Megatron looked at Ratchet, “I would appreciate it if you would keep an optic on him.”

Ratchet gave a curt nod before following them out.

“Arcee,” Optimus turned to the remaining member of his team, “Smokescreen may require a friendly presence at the moment.”

“On it.” She looked at Jack, “Maybe you should stay with your mom for now.”

Jack nodded, “I’ll see you later.” He moved to stand next to June as both of them waited for Fowler to finish his call to the Pentagon.

Megatron turned to Optimus, his voice low. “You may not be one to take risks, but I am inclined to agree with the two wheeler. We are running out of time.”

“I know.” Optimus gave a small sigh, “I would like to have a plan before we take any risks. There are many outcomes we need to be ready for. But you are correct. Whatever we plan on doing, we need to do it soon.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

 _Bulkhead is going to kill me…_ Wheeljack groaned to himself, lifting his servo to rub at his aching head.

But his arm didn’t move. His arm _couldn’t_ move. _He_ couldn’t move.

_Frag._

There was no way this could have gone worse. He and Dreadwing had gone out to settle their differences the old fashioned way: no back up, no weapons, just two mechs, half an hour, and an open field. They had only gotten ten minutes.

Airachnid and her Insecticons came out of nowhere. Dreadwing had attempted to fly off, only to get stuck in a swarm. Wheeljack had tried to retreat to his ship, but Airachnid had been faster. The last thing Wheeljack remembered before being beaten unconscious was watching the Insecticons drag Dreadwing’s limp body to Airachnid.

Now he was waking up, bound in Airachnid’s sticky webbing, next to a slowly rousing Dreadwing, watching the blurred shapes that he only recognized as Airachnid’s pedes due to the click of the sharp points meeting concrete pace around them.

“This is certainly a surprise.” Deep voice, not Airachnid. “Where did you find them?”

“The poor things were lost in the middle of nowhere.” Airachnid stopped her slow pacing to stand between the prone mechs, “I thought they could use a new home.”

Wheeljack blinked, attempting to clear his vision. He looked at Dreadwing, hoping the larger mech was more alert than he was, only to be confused when he saw that the Seeker was paying him no attention. One optic ridge raised, Wheeljack tilted his head so that he could look at what Dreadwing was staring at so intensely.

_Fraggin’ Primus…_

Soundwave. Soundwave was staring at them, looking just as shocked as they were, and ten times worse for wear. His paint was almost completely chipped away from abuse and lack of care, the once purple plating reduced to dull, scratched silver. His mask was shattered, exposing everything except his right optic. One purple optic, wide with surprise and dim from lack of energy, stared back at them. He was sitting up, supporting himself on arms that trembled and threatened to buckle, and his biolights were darkened to almost nothing. But that wasn’t what caused Wheeljack’s vents to stall.

It was the glyphs that had been carved into Soundwave’s body. His arms, with their wide set plating, had provided Airachnid with the perfect writing space, though she hadn’t stopped there. The glyphs extended down his legs, over the armored portion of his chest, and Wheeljack assumed there would be more on his back. Curses, slurs, phrases and words that even Wheeljack would refuse to repeat. He could only imagine how long Airachnid had taken to carve them into Soundwave’s body.

“Oh good, they’re awake.” Wheeljack and Dreadwing both turned their attention to Airachnid as she knelt down between them. “Just in time. I would hate for you two to sleep through this.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dreadwing’s voice was calm even as he glared at his captor.

“I thought that the mech who was sent to kill me would know the answer to that question.”

“This is the world’s most elaborate revenge scheme.” Wheeljack rolled his optics, “’Megatron tried to kill me so I’m gonna turn everyone into my slaves.’ Ever think that maybe it was that way of thinkin’ that made Megatron wanna snuff you in the first place?”

“Does it matter why?” Airachnid turned her attention to him, “You are certainly one to talk about revenge. Tell me, what exactly were you doing all alone with the Decepticon who killed one of your Wrecker friends, hm?”

Wheeljack sneered at her before turning his gaze to Silas. “Never got to meet you, but I was warned. I knew you were a sick fragger.”

“I was told much about you as well, Wheeljack.” Silas knelt down and grasped his chin, forcing Wheeljack to maintain optics contact with him. “I was told you were a part of an elite team of fighters. Since the only injuries I see are on you and, Dreadwing, is it? I have to conclude that the stories were grossly exaggerated.”

“I’m just gettin’ warmed up.” Wheeljack smirked, “You wait. I’m going to put a sword through your good optic first chance I get.”

“As entertaining at that sounds, I’m afraid you won’t get that chance.” Silas looked up at Airachnid, “Do it.”

Airachnid grinned and stood. “Soundwave, come here.”

Soundwave, who had been unable to look away from the newest prisoners, froze at the sound of his name.

_No. No, no, no, she can’t ask me to do this!_

He was too weak to resist. The code forced him to stand, even as the action caused the room to spin and his audio receivers to ring. He slowly walked over to Airachnid and dropped to his knees in front of her. Dreadwing and Wheeljack were staring at him; he could feel their optics burning into his body. Shame swept over him, drowning out the pleasurable reward the coding gave him for following orders.

The feeling of servos on his shoulders almost made him jump. He was glad he didn’t when he realized who was touching him.

“Don’t let her see your fear.” Starscream murmured into his audio receiver.

Even though he knew it wasn’t real, even though he knew that this was just a figment of a very sick and tired imagination, Soundwave could not help but feel relieved that his hallucination had returned. It made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Airachnid cupped his chin, looking down into his exposed optic. “You know what I want you to do.”

He did.

The cables on his chest extended to the floor before he managed to bring them to a halt. It hurt, _oh_ did it hurt. But so did watching the new prisoners flinch and struggle.

“Soundwave, you can fight this.” Dreadwing tried to meet his optic, “You can resist this!”

“He has already learned that he can’t.” Airachnid continued to stare at Soundwave, cruel amusement etched on her face.

“Soundwave,” Starscream tightened his grip on his shoulders, “If you don’t do this, she’ll let the Insecticons do it, and you’ll be in more pain. You need your strength, and she will win either way. You have to compromise.”

_I don’t want to compromise, I don’t want to do this! I can’t…this is…_

“I know.” Starscream whispered against his helm, “I know. But you have to.”

Soundwave knew he had to. Starscream was right. If he fought this, he would only be punished more. Now that Silas and Airachnid had two more troops, they could even decide to kill him.

_Maybe that’s okay…maybe it would be easier to-_

“No.” Starscream all but snarled, “If you give up, if you die, _they win.”_

_If I infect them, they win anyway._

“Only the battle. Not the war. Never let them see your pain, Soundwave.”

“Soundwave.” Airachnid was getting impatient, “Look at them, and transfer the coding.”

It hurt too much to resist. Soundwave looked down at Dreadwing and Wheeljack as his cables moved to their necks. Both of them snarled and squirmed, attempting to avoid the inevitable. They gave small shouts when the cables attached to the ports on the back of their necks.

“The others are goin’ to find us!” Wheeljack spat, “You aren’t gettin’ away with this!” He wrapped himself in his anger, trying to ignore the edge of fear that wasn’t completely his.

“We sincerely hope they do find you.” Silas watched as Dreadwing stopped struggling. “It will make this process much faster if we don’t have to continue to hunt you down one by one.”

Dreadwing looked up at Soundwave, finally able to meet his gaze. It caused Soundwave no small amount of pain to see the understanding in that steady gaze. It would have been easier to see hatred.

Soundwave located the coding, unable to look away from the two poor souls who were watching him, and gave the order to copy and transfer it. He knew what it felt like to have the code uploaded; he didn’t want to watch their faces when it happened. But he couldn’t look away.

The code transferred smoothly. The way Dreadwing and Wheeljack shuddered and grimaced told them all exactly when it was finished.

“Very good.” Airachnid’s voice washed over them, “Silas, I believe Soundwave has earned some energon.” She tapped at Soundwave’s cables, silently telling him to disconnect. He did so quickly, reeling them back into his chest as quickly as he could.

“Now, let’s see how obedient you two are.” Airachnid cut Wheeljack free from the webbing that held him, stepping back as the Wrecker jumped to his pedes immediately. “Kneel.”

A loud clang echoed through the building as Wheeljack fell hard onto his knees, unprepared for the sudden urge to obey. “What the frag!?”

“They’ll be much easier to tame than Soundwave was.” Silas returned from the energon pile with a single cube. He held it out to Soundwave, “Drink.”

Soundwave almost dropped it. His servos were shaking, his digits unable to firmly grasp the cube being handed to him. He was exhausted and hungry and angry and he couldn’t stop trembling. Raising the cube to his lips was a feat achieved only through desperation. He was so hungry…

Starscream kneeled in front of him, setting his servos over Soundwave’s to steady the cube. Soundwave tried to tell himself that Starscream wasn’t real, that he wasn’t here to help, but he pushed the thought aside quickly. It didn’t matter. His mind was coping with the situation, and if it helped him hold a cube long enough for him to drink, he didn’t care if what he was seeing was real or not.

He tried not to listen to the sounds of Airachnid cutting Dreadwing loose. Tried to ignore the orders she gave her new prisoners and the futile attempts of rebellion that ended with them obeying anyway. All his focus went into finishing the cube he had been given.

“Do you remember that conversation we had this morning?” Starscream asked when the cube was half empty. Soundwave looked at him, confused for a moment.

_How useful do you want to be?_

He disguised his nod by dipping his head toward the cube once more.

“I have a new question. Who do you want to be useful to?”

 _Megatron._ The answer was instantaneous, _Megatron, always. And…_ Soundwave spared one glance at Dreadwing and Wheeljack. Dreadwing was attempting to hold himself steady, to maintain a stoic, unbothered appearance. But Soundwave could see the look of quiet despair in his optics. Wheeljack was gritting his denta, aggravation and hostility blatantly written over every inch of his face.

_And to them. To myself. To anyone but Airachnid._

“Good.” Starscream pushed at the cube, urging him to take another drink. “Then tell me, Soundwave, what are you planning to do?”

Soundwave lowered the cube again to watch as Dreadwing and Wheeljack were ordered to bow. Resisting the code took an enormous amount of mental strength; something very few people had. They would not be able to fight like he had. He had to make his plan work. Quickly.

He looked back at Starscream, his mind slightly clearer now that he had something in his system. If he got out, if he got free, he could tell Megatron where this base was. Then they could rescue Dreadwing and Wheeljack. All he had to do was get back to the _Nemesis._ Which meant he had to be allowed to fight. Which meant he had to be on Airachnid’s good side.

Starscream was still watching him, waiting for a response. Soundwave felt a flicker of determination; something he thought he’d never feel again. It was a small flame, barely a spark blooming in his chest, but it was enough.

_I am going to obey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things to do, so little time...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I got it out on time this week!
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who left comments on the last chapter, I'm so glad you all liked it!
> 
> I'm having a little too much fun with Hallucination!Starscream...

_“Kno~ock Out…”_

_He was back in that place; that foggy forest that turned the most innocent of objects into terrifying visions. The voice had returned. Mocking, cold, dangerous._

_“Knock Out!” Breakdown’s voice, “Where are you!?”_

_“I’m right here!” Knock Out ran forward, spark already hammering. He had to get there, he had to get to Breakdown!_

_The land flashed before him; no fog, more rocks, a forest lit only by stars. The scenery rushed past far too quickly; and the ground was much too far away. Was he jumping through the trees?_

_Fog again. The visions of the other forest disappearing as quickly as they had come._

_“Knock Out!” There was so much fear in his voice. Breakdown never yelled out like that!_

_“I’m coming!” But he didn’t know where to go. The voices echoed, ebbing and flowing through the fog, coming from all directions._

_“No!” Knock Out jumped, the yell coming from right next to him. He turned quickly, reaching out, only to find he was still alone._

_“Breakdown!”_

_A scream; loud and filled with agony. It cut off suddenly, unnaturally._

_“Breakdown!” Knock Out’s voice box strained as he yelled. Plating rattled together as he shook, “Breakdown please! Answer me!”_

_He jumped harshly when two purple optics appeared in front of him, piercing through the fog. They blinked and disappeared. Something else was glowing, higher in the trees; something blue, something that flickered and jumped. It moved away from him, drifting deeper into the forest._

_A tunnel in the forest with no fog._

_Knock Out blinked, losing the vision again._

_“Breakdown!”_

_“Knock Out! Run!”_

_Dreadwing._

_Knock Out spun around, optics widening at the sight of Dreadwing strung between two trees. Airachnid’s webbing trapped his arms and legs, keeping him locked in place._

_“Dreadwing!” He rushed forward, desperate to free him, “We have to get out of here, we need to leave!”_

_“You need to run, now!” Dreadwing looked past him, his optics glowing with fear, though his voice controlled, “Leave me here, go!”_

_“I’m not leaving you here, I can’t lose you too!” Knock Out tugged at the webbing. “I can get you free of this!” His thinner, pointed digits slid between the web and Dreadwing’s armor, but no matter how hard he tugged he could not break it. He grit his denta, setting his pedes and pulling harder._

_“Knock Out, no, you need to go!”_

_“I’m not leaving you behind!” He moved closer, shifting his servo to get a better grip, his optics locked on his task._

_“Knock Out…”_

_Warm, sticky wetness. Knock Out paused, slowly pulling one servo back. His palm was coated with energon. His vents stalled, his spark spinning with mounting fear, and he slowly looked back at Dreadwing._

_His head was gone, his body now resting limp in the silver webbing. Plating was sliced open, exposing wires and inner mechanisms. Energon painted his body, dripping to the earth below. His spark was no longer there._

_Knock Out screamed, yanking his arm away and stumbling back. Something caught against his ankle and he fell backward, catching himself awkwardly with a clatter of metal. Trembling and nauseous, he looked down to see what he had tripped on._

_Breakdown’s head; mouth twisted in pain, optics dead._

_His vents stalled as he began to gasp for air, finding himself unable to get enough. Metal clicked against his servo when he shifted, prompting him to look at what he had collapsed against._

_Breakdown’s body, torn into pieces and strewn across the ground. He was sitting in the middle of what was left of his bonded, being stared at by dark optics._

_“No! No, no, no!” Knock Out tried to scramble away. It only brought him closer to Dreadwing’s lifeless body, cold and graying._

_“Kno~ock Out…” Airachnid appeared from the fog, climbing down between the trees to settle on Dreadwing’s shoulders._

_“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” Knock Out felt sick. He was shaking too hard to stand, the energon in his lines running cold with terror. Hot tears began to slide from his optics._

_Airachnid was silent. A grin slid over her face. She reached behind her body, threw something forward._

_Dreadwing’s head came to rest next to Breakdown’s; his mouth open in silent pain._

Knock Out woke up screaming.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“You should be sleeping.” Starscream pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching Knock Out silently move around the medical bay. He didn’t miss the way the medic jumped at the sound of his voice.

“So should you.” Knock Out kept his back to him; his optics trained on whatever it was he had in his servos.

“This berth is far too hard for that. I don’t know how you expect anyone to sleep on it.”

Knock Out did not respond to the snark.

Starscream sat up completely, quietly shushing Laserbeak when he chirped sleepily at him. “Did Ratchet check on you?”

“I sent him away.” Knock Out was trying to keep his voice even, calm; but Starscream could hear the slight tremble.

“What did he say?”

Starscream received no answer. Knock Out continued to pace around the perimeter of the medical bay, adjusting tools and equipment until everything was in perfect order. Starscream watched him careful, trying to get a sense of what he was thinking.

“He offers me a sleep aid every night.” Starscream reached to one side so that he could gently stroke his claws over Laserbeak’s wing. The minicon shivered under the pleasant touch. “Reminds me how important it is to recharge, as if I didn’t know.” Starscream could see that Knock Out had slightly turned his head, though he still was not looking at him. “I tell him that recharge means nothing if it is filled with horror.”

Knock Out paused in front of a shelf filled with tools. “Strong sleep aids don’t allow room for dreams.” He hesitated a moment before asking softly, “What do you see?”

“Insecticons. Silas. Soundwave.” Starscream looked down at Laserbeak, optics distant as he recalled his nightmares. “I see him as he was when I first found him; broken and bleeding, helpless on the ground. Sometimes I can see Airachnid’s shadow. Sometimes all I hear is her laughing.”

He looked up at the sound of Knock Out inhaling, the air stuttering in his vents. It was the only sound he made, so Starscream continued talking.

“I never imagined I would see Soundwave like that. When I found him, I thought I was dreaming.” He moved his servo away from Laserbeak so he could lie back down. The still healing weld lines on his stomach twinged with annoyance at the movement.

“Why did you help him?” Knock Out’s voice was quiet.

A slow sigh escaped Starscream, “That is the question, isn’t it? _Everyone_ is clamoring to find out why I would bother helping _anyone_ , let alone Soundwave.” He huffed, mildly annoyed. “There is no easy explanation. I had multiple reasons for offering my assistance.”

“What were they?”

Any other time, Starscream might have snorted and told Knock Out that it was not his concern. Really, it wasn’t. He did not have to explain himself to anyone. However, the topic was getting Knock Out to talk. It was keeping him from diving too deeply into his own mind again. So, because Knock Out was one of the only people Starscream could consider a friend, he answered.

“There were the selfish reasons: If I helped Soundwave, Megatron would have to take me back. If I saved Soundwave, I could return to the _Nemesis_ without having to worry about being shot on sight.” He snorted softly. “I also couldn’t stand the thought of allowing Airachnid to win. Any chance to beat her at her own game. Rescuing Soundwave would have been a slap in her treacherous face.”

Starscream turned his gaze upward, focusing on a point in the ceiling. He had never voiced his third reasoning aloud before. Thought, the more he thought about it, the harder it was to ignore.

“I suppose it was also a way of…showing gratitude. In a small way.”

That got Knock Out’s attention. Starscream could hear him shift as he turned to look at him.

“Soundwave was the only one aboard this ship that did not mock me. Megatron has never fully trusted me, constantly questioning my motives and my loyalty. The argument could be made that I have given him valid reason to do so, but I digress.” He waved his servo dismissively. “Shockwave has always brushed me aside. When I lost my trine, the rest of the troops began to lose respect for me. Soundwave was the only one to listen to what I had to say.” Starscream tapped his digits along the berth, “It’s rather complicated to explain. He has never done anything specifically to help me. But he has never done anything to harm me, either.

Soundwave listened to my orders. He treated me as a proper Second in Command. Saving his life was supposed to show my…appreciation.”

Starscream sighed, reaching up with one servo to rub at his forehead. His optics grew distant, voice softening ever so slightly. “You didn’t see him. None of you saw him. He was broken, torn to pieces and left to rot. And he trusted me with Laserbeak. He _asked_ me to take his minicon; to protect him. For millions of years I have fought with Soundwave. Never had I seen him pass his minicons to another for protection. He was _scared,_ Knock Out. It scared _me._ ”

“It would have scared anyone…” Knock Out turned his attention back to the tool shelf, trying to give himself a task to focus on. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Starscream turned his head to look at him.

“For yesterday. For ignoring Ratchet. For forcing me to help you. For forcing me to work instead of think. I needed that.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.”

A slow silence settled over the room, neither of them knowing what to say to further the conversation. Starscream shifted on his berth, lacing his digits together over his chest.

“You really should be sleeping. You’ll need to be well rested when you replace my t-cog; which will be happening soon. And _don’t_ say Ratchet can do it.”

Knock Out looked over his shoulder at the resting Seeker. “You’re right.” Quietly he went to a table pressed against a wall and reached into one of the draws. He pulled out two syringes, holding them up so Starscream could see.

“Would you like a sleep aid?”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

This was a bad idea. He was going to get himself shot.

Nevertheless, Smokescreen didn’t hesitate to creep into the room the second he managed to guess the correct passcode.

The room was dark and quiet; thought what else was to be expected at three in the morning? Smokescreen carefully moved toward the berth, lowering himself down to his knees once he reached it. He raised one servo, placing it on a slim shoulder before gently shaking the berths inhabitant.

“Arcee…” His voice was barely a whisper, “Arcee, wake up…”

The shoulder in his grasp tensed suddenly, and before he could blink Smokescreen found himself staring at the glowing end of a blaster. He threw his servos up.

“Friendly, don’t shoot!”

“Smokescreen?” The blaster pulled away, transforming back into a servo. Arcee blinked at him, her optics glowing in the darkness, “What the frag…do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I know, I do…sorry, I just…” Smokescreen looked down at his lap, servos lowering to twist uncomfortably over his knees.

Arcee relaxed, her optics softening as she watched him. His shoulders were tense and hunched, his optics dim. “What’s wrong?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Just wanted to talk to someone.”

“If that were true you would have gone to Optimus, you know he’s probably still awake.” Arcee sat up completely, turning to dangle her legs off the side of the berth.

“I just, wanted to…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up. I should go.” But Smokescreen didn’t move from his spot.

“It’s obviously important. I’m awake now, you may as well tell me.” Arcee smiled slightly to show that she wasn’t angry.

Smokescreen bit his lip. Now that he was here, it was suddenly difficult to get the words out. “It’s…It’s about Wheeljack and Dreadwing…”

Arcee’s smile faded. Whatever Smokescreen had to say, it was obviously hard. Had he neglected to say something during the meeting? Did he know where they had gone before they disappeared? She forced herself to be patient, waiting quietly for Smokescreen to continue.

He drew in a shaky breath, “I heard them talking about going out. Wheeljack said something about…settling things between them. They never said where they were going, not out loud, but I knew that they were going to sneak out.” He swallowed. “I didn’t say anything because Bee and Knock Out and I were planning on going out too, and it seemed stupid to rat on them when we were doing the same thing. And…it was _Wheeljack_. I thought they would be okay, you know? I told myself they’d be alright.”

Arcee’s optics ridges drew together in worry as Smokescreen’s frame began to shake slightly. His servos continued to wring together in his lap, and he refused to look up at her.

“When we got back and found out that they’d gone missing…”

“Smokescreen,” Arcee placed her servo on his shoulder, “You didn’t know. It’s normal to feel fear and guilt. It was stupid to go out there, but you couldn’t have known…”

“But I _wasn’t_ afraid…not at first.” Smokescreen swallowed again, and when he finally looked up at Arcee, his optics were wide and beginning to glisten, “I felt _relieved._ We had been out too, Airachnid could have caught the three of us. But she got them instead, and we got back safely and I was _relieved_ because it wasn’t me.” His voice was beginning to shake. Immediately he dropped his gaze back to his lap, shame radiating through his field.

“What kind of soldier am I…what kind of _friend_ am I…to be _happy_ that I was safe, instead of worried because they weren’t?”

“Smokescreen…” Arcee gripped his shoulders, “Smokescreen, look at me.”

It seemed to cause Smokescreen a great deal of pain to meet her optic. Something twinged in Arcree’s spark when she saw a small glistening tear beginning to creep down his face.

“Everyone reacts to situations differently. You learned that you had avoided a dangerous situation, it’s normal to feel relief when you hear something like that.”

“Even when I knew that my friend hadn’t avoided it?”

“You processed the information at different rates. ‘I’m safe’ brought you relief. ‘Wheeljack is in trouble’ brought you fear. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I feel like a bad person.” Smokescreen sounded utterly miserable, “I’m such an idiot…I should have said something…”

“Wheeljack would have gone out anyway. He’s stubborn like that.” Arcee squeezed his shoulders, “Blaming yourself is not going to help them now. We need to stay focused on finding them, okay?”

Smokescreen nodded, “Okay…”

“Would you like to stay here for the night?”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if it would be appropriate to accept the offer, “If…if you don’t mind…I’d rather not be alone right now…”

“Come on.” Arcee shifted back on the berth, making room for him to join her.

“We’ll get them back.” Arcee rubbed his arm gently, “Optimus isn’t going to leave them behind.”

“She’s going to infect them.” Smokescreen almost whispered, “She’s going to turn them into slaves…”

Arcee had no words to comfort him. They both knew what was going to happen. All she could do was cradle his head and keep him close until they both fell into an uneasy recharge.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

After being kicked out of Knock Out’s room, Ratchet found himself unable to relax. How could he, when he knew that there were mechs in pain? His help obviously wasn’t wanted by his fellow medic, but there was someone else that he could offer support to.

He wasn’t expecting Bulkhead to open the door. It was late, and Bumblebee had left his room hours ago so he could sleep. So he was a little surprised when Bulkhead answered seconds after he knocked.

“Come in…”

Ratchet keyed in the medical access code he had been given for the ship. The door slid open for him easily.

“I thought you might be having trouble sleeping…” He stepped inside, immediately becoming concerned when he saw Bulkhead. The larger mech was sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of his berth, with his servos clasped over his chest. His optics were closed tightly, and his field was filled with a distinct feeling of pain and loneliness as well as fear.

“Bulkhead?” Ratchet moved to kneel beside him. “Bulkhead, are you in pain?”

“He shut me out…” Bulkhead was trembling, his voice soft and wavering.

“Shut you out?” Ratchet looked over the mech, taking in the way his servos clutched at his own chest, directly over his spark chamber. His optics widened. “Bulkhead…”

“We bonded.” Bulkhead inhaled shakily, “We bonded, and he closed the bond…I can’t feel him…”

Ratchet set a servo on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “I’m sure Wheeljack is going to be okay. He’s a strong, stubborn bot.”

“This isn’t like before…this is different…She’s going to…to…” Bulkhead covered his face with his servos, “I’m so scared, Ratchet…”

“I know, Bulkhead.” Ratchet rubbed his shoulder, holding his field in so he didn’t show the fear he also felt, “I know.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus woke alone in the berth, the spot to his right cold and empty. He sat up slowly, blinking to clear the remnants of sleep from his optics. The sky outside the window was pale blue, the clouds streaked with soft pinks and oranges from the rising run. His chronometer told him it was about six-thirty in the morning.

The soft sound of muffled cheering reached Optimus’ audials. It sounded familiar, but was so quiet that it was hard to place. He turned to look out into the room, his optics coming to rest on Megatron’s form.

He was sitting with his back to the berth, looking down at something in his servos. If he had heard Optimus shifting on the berth, it did not show.

Quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever Megatron was doing, Optimus stood from the berth. Stepping lightly, he walked over to the couch, moving carefully down the small sets of stairs as he went.

Megatron paused the video he was watching, cutting off the cheering and filling the room with silence.

“I had never heard you yell like you did on the bridge.” His voice was calm, the tone conversational. Optimus blinked, momentarily surprised. That incident had happened over a week ago, he had begun to think they were not going to talk about it.

“I was angry. I should not have lost my temper, but I do not regret what I said.”

“You shouldn’t.” Megatron picked up a small control pad from the table in front of him. At the press of a button, a section of wall slid away to reveal a large monitor. “After our argument, I found I could not push your words aside. So I found some of the recordings Soundwave had made of my old speeches, starting from the beginning and ending with our meeting before the Council. I watched all of them.”

“I assume you found something of interest. You were quick to forgive my outburst.”

Megatron did not answer. He hit another button and the monitor lit up. Optimus set his servos on the back of the couch, watching as one of Megatron’s videos began to play.

“We refer to him as Lord Prime!” Megatronus, champion gladiator, paced around the Pit, voice roaring over the cheers and stomping of the crowd, “Why?! What is he Lord over? What does he rule that causes such awe? He hides behind the Council, following blindly the path they carve! Does he see us when we stumble?! Does he hear us in our need?!” He moved to the center of the pit, circling to talk to all those in attendance. “A lord is a ruler! And we do not need a ruler! We do not need a government that forces power through fear!”

The crowds roar became deafening, and Megatronus was forced to wait for them to fall silent once more.

“ _Lord Prime.”_ He spat the titles as if they were corroding his glossa, “The Primes before us _led!_ With helping hands and open minds, they encouraged growth! They encouraged Cybertronians to _think!_ They would not stand for this stagnant system that binds us!

The Primes were true leaders of this world! And a leader is what we need now! Not a corrupt ruler who wields a whip; a leader who will guide the people back to the glory of the Golden Age! I have a vision for Cybertron, where our lives are not dictated by what we do or do not turn into! _I_ will lead us to our former glory! I take my name from one of the _leaders_ who formed this world; one who did not bow to another’s will.”

The monitor shut off suddenly.

“I am Megatronus; and I will fix what the Council has broken.”

Megatron’s voice was almost a murmur compared to the passionate roar of his recorded past self. He set the control panel down on the table.

“The speech I gave when I took my name. I had almost forgotten about it.” He stood. “Megatronus; the revolutionary who wanted to break the shackles of oppression. Now, I am Lord Megatron. My soldiers hesitate to meet my optics, and avoid me when I am angered. They are afraid to question my rule.”

He turned to look at Optimus, meeting his optics, “I have become what I once rebelled against. And am I not sure when that happened.”

If Optimus was surprised, he did not show it. “It can be easy to lose ones way during war.” He said almost gently, holding Megatron’s gaze.

“You fought hard to ensure you never lost your path.”

“I could not afford to.”

Megatron nodded once. “What you said on the bridge; you were right. I was arrogant. I wanted to have the title to spite the Council, and all those who looked at the lower caste as if we were garbage. How badly would it have hurt them to see a mech who had to crawl his way above ground claim the matrix for his own?” He snorted, almost in disgust, “I accused you of falling into their trap when you accepted the title. I did not realize that I was the one caught in their lies. By attempting to forcefully take the matrix, I only solidified the fears that Cybertron had about me.”

He looked back at the monitor, “I watched every recording Soundwave made of me. I never noticed how I had changed until I listened to them.”

“Those who are changing are often the last to know.” Optimus moved around the couch to stand beside Megatron. He did not touch him, not yet.

Megatron looked back at him, almost searching his face for some sign of forgiveness. “It made no difference that you were given the title. I could have led Cybertron to a new era without being a Prime.”

“You still can. _We_ still can.” Optimus said firmly, “If you will accept my help once more.”

Megatron allowed his field to brush against Optimus’, filled with acceptance and a faint edge of mild amusement. “I am not easy to work with.”

Optimus allowed his own field to color with soft humor, “You never were.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“That had to have hurt.” Wheeljack nodded at the carvings covering Soundwave’s frame, his arms crossed across his chest. The three MECH prisoners were leaning against the far wall of the base, left to watch the empty room. It was early afternoon; Soundwave guessed it was about two or three earth time. It was hard to tell; his chronometer had broken some time ago.

“Of course it hurt, you glitch.” Starscream responded from Soundwave’s left side. The hallucination hadn’t left Soundwave. Instead it remained with him, and now Starscream was leaning against the wall with the rest of them, his ankles crossed and wings splayed flat against the wall. “The wretch carved into him, and stopped the bleeding with acid.”

Soundwave resisted the urge to pulse amusement through his field, reminding himself that Starscream was not actually there to feel it. He settled for nodded once in agreement with the Wrecker’s statement and continuing his observation of the two new “recruits”.

They were both fighting hard, as he had expected they would, but the code was definitely stronger than they had anticipated. Airachnid had not taken any chances with them either. They had been ordered to stay awake last night, while Soundwave had been ‘rewarded’ with his first night of sleep in days. When Silas had come through at the first sign of sunlight, Soundwave had been handed a cube of energon, while the others were ignored.

Dreadwing had ignored his new ‘master’, choosing to stare at a spot on the opposite wall with his head held high and shoulders set defiantly. Wheeljack had sneered and cursed Silas, puffing himself up with the expected attitude of “I’m a Wrecker, you can’t break me.”

Soundwave had momentarily, stupidly, considered refusing the fuel; but Starscream had pushed the cube to his face.

“You need this.”

So he had drunk, and he had accepted the insulting pat on the head.

Now the four…three of them were alone, waiting.

“She do that to you after you ran from Megatron last time?”

Again Soundwave nodded.

“He is worried about you.” Dreadwing said softly from where he sat, “He has been driving himself to exhaustion trying to find you.”

“Makes me wonder what Bulk’s gonna do…” The way Wheeljack muttered made Soundwave wonder if he had meant to speak aloud. Regardless, both he and Dreadwing heard, and by the way Dreadwing tensed, Soundwave got the impression that he was worried about someone as well.

He didn’t get a chance to ask. Airachnid and Silas led a group of MECH soldiers into the room. They headed toward the trio without hesitation while the humans separated to their different stations.

“And I thought this was going to be a nice morning.” Starscream sneered at them, his claws tapping impatiently along the concrete floor. Soundwave felt the spark of amusement again, but forced himself to tamp it down. Explaining a delighted smile to Airachnid would only bring trouble.

“Good afternoon,” Airachnid came to a stop before them, optics flicking from bot to bot. “It’s time to continue your obedience training. Wheeljack, Dreadwing, you will be coming with me. But before we depart, I’d like to show you what a good slave looks like. Soundwave.”

Soundwave felt his tank roll with disgust, already knowing what she was going to demand.

“I think we should return to our old habit of greeting each other, don’t you agree?” She grinned coldly at him, not so subtly moving one pede forward.

Starscream nudged against Soundwave’s shoulder, “You know you have to.”

He knew he did. That did not mean he had to like it.

Soundwave shifted, careful to keep his face expressionless, even as his sore joints and irritated wounds burned unhappily. He moved to his knees so he could crawl forward. Humiliation rose like a tidal wave, but he did not pause. Bowing low, Soundwave brushed his lip plates along the top of Airachnid’s pede in a light kiss. Bitter anger swirled through his spark, and he let his thoughts drift back to the time he had her pinned under his own pede. Those were good times.

“Good.” Airachnid was grinning, he could hear it in her voice, but he did not look up. “You may return to the wall. Silas wants your recovering to be the main focus. We have more jobs for you to do.”

He crawled back, moving to once more sit against the wall. Though he could see the others watching him, he refused to meet their optics.

“Now, you two, come with me.” Airachnid crooked one digit to beckon them forward.

Dreadwing and Wheeljack rose stiffly; both of them fighting a losing battle against the coding. They continued to follow her out of the room, and suddenly Soundwave found himself alone with Silas. He wasn’t sure if he preferred his presence over Airachnid’s.

“That line of coding is quite special.”

“Special like a strain of rust.” Starscream muttered.

“Quite potent as well. I was beginning to think it wasn’t worth the effort, considering the fight you put up.” Silas said, addressing Soundwave. He seemed to be mulling something over, as he stood silently for a long moment before turned to speak to his men.

“Can you copy the coding?”

“I can try, sir. Is that anything specific you want me to do with it?”

“I want a copy on hand. No sense in leaving Airachnid with all the power.”

“Keeping the playing field even?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He moved to stand beside them, watching them work at the computers, “I am not foolish enough to think Airachnid can be trusted completely. If things begin to turn for the worst, I want to know that we can _control_ the situation.”

“Yes sir. I will just need to download the code onto the computers.”

Starscream nudged Soundwave, drawing his attention away from the humans, “Does your audio recorder still work?”

Soundwave fought to hide the grin that wanted to bloom across his exposed face.

_Yes. Yes it does._

Starscream grinned wide enough for the both of them. “Infighting is such a destructive force, wouldn’t you agree?”

Soundwave turned his head to watch Silas, who was no longer paying any attention to him.

_Completely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little update: There might not be a chapter for one or two weeks. I have finals coming up and I really need to be study for them, and then finals week itself is going to be hell so...ugh. Thank you all ahead of time for your patience and understanding, sorry I had to leave you with this chapter as a cliff hanger until summer break ^^;


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!
> 
> So sorry about the delay, I didn't mean to be so late with this update. My schedule got crazy after finals and time just flew away from me. BUT! We have an update! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your patience, and for the good luck wishes for my finals, it means a lot :)
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I'm happy to see a few new commenters! To the person going as "A Reader", your last comment/review made me smile for about three days straight. I didn't expect anyone to take that much time to leave me something like that, so thank you!
> 
> Anyway, I hope to get things back on schedule now. If I sit down and write like crazy, I might have chapter 17 ready for Friday! (no promises, but I'll try!)

“So Soundwave,” Starscream crossed his ankles, his optics trained on the soft chunk of artists’ metal he was currently carving into with his digits, “I’m rather curious. Of all the people you could have chosen to see, you picked _me._ Over _Megatron._ Why is that?”

Soundwave blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question.

_“How does it feel, Soundwave, to know you’ve been replaced by an Autobot? Megatron doesn’t need you as his little code cracker anymore, he has Optimus now.”_

A wave of shame rippled through his field. He lowered his optics to his lap, more than grateful that he was alone in the room. The humans at the computers didn’t count; they never paid any attention to him.

Starscream paused in his task, turning his head slightly to look at Soundwave, “Do you honestly believe that?”

_No._

A pause. The memory of Orion Pax taking his place decoding the Iacon database played through his mind. Soundwave tried to push it aside. That decision had been smart. Orion was an Autobot, and an archivist. He had had a better chance at success. Megatron had made a rational decision to use him over Soundwave.

…Right?

“Airachnid truly _has_ gotten beneath your plating.”

Soundwave shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that the Seeker was right.

A pointed digit caught under his chin, pulling his gaze up to meet Starscream’s.

“You are Megatron’s most trusted officer. His strongest ally. You are not easily replaced just because _Airachnid_ says you are. Megatron needs you, and he knows it. _You_ know it. Stop doubting yourself because of _her._ ”

Soundwave blinked once before giving a small nod. Starscream seemed to accept the silent answer, as he pulled his servo away from Soundwave’s face.

“Now I know why you see me.” He picked up the artists’ metal again, “I’m your pride. You need a healthy dose of that right now.” The metal warped under a firm swipe of his thumb, shaping into something new. Starscream paused again. “Why am I sculpting?”

_I always pictured you as a sculptor. I do not know why._

“You could have at least given me proper tools. Do you know how long it would take me to clean my joints after doing this?”

_I do not know what the proper tools look like._

Starscream glanced at him quickly before turning his attention back to his work. “Of course you don’t…”

They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the silence. Soundwave was thankful to have time to rest. He was still exhausted from being kept awake for so long, and his joints ached from the stress he had put them through. Being left to sit alone had never felt so good.

At some point Starscream began to hum. It was a familiar tune Soundwave knew he had heard before, but he couldn’t quite place where it was from. He wasn’t given much to time to figure it out.

“You two still need a little work, but I’m _very_ impressed with the progress we’ve made today.” Airachnid’s voice broke the enjoyable silence as she led Wheeljack and Dreadwing back into the main area of the base. “Both of you are much more obedient than Soundwave was in the beginning.”

“Bite me, bitch.” Wheeljack growled. Soundwave recognized the explicative as a human term. Somehow, it added an extra edge to the insult.

“Watch your mouth, Wheeljack.” Airachnid said sharply. “You will be polite, or you will _be silent._ ”

Wheeljack opened his mouth to retort, only to make a disgusted face when he realized he could not activate his voice box. He settled for an obscene gesture instead, which made Airachnid tsk and shake her head.

“How rude. Oh well, I suppose not all of you can be gentlemen. At least Dreadwing is well-mannered.” She turned to her prisoners, pressing one servo against Dreadwing’s chest and leaning close, a small smirk on her lips. “Isn’t that right, Dreadwing?”

Dreadwing said nothing, his face like stone and his optics staring straight ahead. He held himself stiffly, refusing to show any discomfort.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to draw her attention.” Starscream said, not looking up from his work.

Soundwave turned to face Airachnid, searching quickly through his library of audio recordings so he could properly relay his message.

“Airachnid.” It was Megatron’s voice that filtered through his speakers. Even cracked and warped as it was because of the damage to Soundwave’s visor, the voice was unmistakable.

Airachnid turned to look at him, one optic ridge quirked slightly in surprise.

“Bow your head. Look submissive.” Starscream carved a thin strip off of the malleable metal.

Soundwave ducked his head quickly, looking down at the floor.

“I want to be…of use.” Starscream and Shockwave’s voices, cut and spliced to form a proper sentence.

“Oh?” Airachnid turned away from Dreadwing, her attention now trained on her more troublesome slave. “What brought this change of pace?” She stepped closer to Soundwave, trailing her digits along the top of his head.

Soundwave decided not to waste any time. The file he had made earlier was located, and after a second of pause, Silas’ voice filtered roughly through his speakers.

The conversation between Silas and his soldier was short, but it had the desired effect. Airachnid’s optics narrowed slightly, and her servo stilled on Soundwave’s head.

“ _I’m_ the one who can’t be trusted?” She tsked, removing her servo completely from Soundwave’s frame, “I need to have a word with my _partner.”_ Airachnid turned away. She cast a glance at Dreadwing and Wheeljack before pointing to the wall next to Soundwave. “Sit, and Wheeljack, you may speak.” And with that final order, she was gone.

Joints whined softly as the pair attempted to resist her order. Wheeljack’s knees almost buckled under his body before he gave in and moved to the wall. Dreadwing was able to last a little longer, but Soundwave could tell by the way his face twisted in pain that he would not be able to resist for long. They were both on the ground next to Soundwave within a minute.

“Wonder if she’ll off Silas now.” Wheeljack grumbled, rubbing at his knees in irritation.

“I doubt it. He still has the stealth factor, and more in-depth knowledge of human technology.”

“Like she gives a scraplets aft about human technology. All she wants is us, dead or under her control.”

“She needs the technology if she wants any chance of tracking the rest of us down.”

“Really?” Wheeljack crossed his arms, turning his head to look at Dreadwing, “You sure about that? ‘Cause I think she’s been doin’ a fraggin’ good job of catchin’ us without trackin’ us.”

“Or, perhaps she is only catching us _because_ she is tracking us.”

“Right, without bein’ anywhere near us for any amount of time, she just _happened_ to track us down the second we left the _Nemesis.”_

“We did use a ground bridge.”

“You think they have the computer system to track that?”

“Do you prefer to think we foolishly stumbled into a trap?”

Wheeljack narrowed his optics before sighing and looking away, toward the computers the humans were working on. “Guess I really shouldn’t be surprised. Not after everythin’ Bulkhead’s told me about them.”

“They do seem to have a certain talent.” Dreadwing leaned his head back against the wall, closing his optics as the Insecticons began to filter into the room. Soundwave turned his head just enough that he could watch Starscream carve into the slowly shaping artist’s metal without being suspicious. Wheeljack watched the new arrivals with something close to curiosity on his face.

“So what’s up with the bugs anyway?”

Soundwave turned to silently stare at the Wrecker, assuming he would continue his question.

“Do you mind elaborating?” Dreadwing asked. He pinched his nasal ridge, every atom of his being radiating exhaustion.

“I mean with the codin’. They’ve got it too, right? Why doesn’t it bother them? They don’t even try to fight it.”

“It is possible that they gave up trying to resist it.”

Soundwave shook his head quickly, searching through his data files. There was a click, a hiss of static, and Shockwave’s voice filtered through his ruined speakers.

“The Insecticons are an ideal choice for the use of this coding. Their unique social structure will make the upload a seamless process.”

“Explain.” Megatron’s voice. Wheeljack arched an optic ridge at the obvious, barely restrained fury they heard.

“Insecticons operate on a highly instinctual level. They react on what they feel, without relying on deep, cognitive thought. Currently their base coding dictates that they obey the orders of the proven dominate figure. That figure is consistently decided within the Hive through acts of aggression. The coding that I have created inserts itself into the code that already exists and replaces the established leader with the Cybertronian who holds the Master Code.”

The clip cut off with a rough crackle.

“So they don’t fight the code…because they can’t tell that it’s there?”

“It appears so.” Dreadwing lowered his servo from his face.

“Thank you, Shockwave.” Starscream muttered. The disdain was unmistakable.

Soundwave leaned his head back against the wall. Silence fell over them as they watched the Insecticons settle for the night.

Wheeljack shifted, pulling his legs up so he could lean forward, elbows on his knees. “What if we made them aware of it?”

Dreadwing’s optic ridges drew together. “The code has been a part of them for a long time now. If they have not yet discovered that something was wrong, I highly doubt they will discover it now.”

“Has anyone tried to tell them somethin’ was wrong? ‘Cause I don’t remember seein’ anyone have a conversation with them.”

“What happens if you do somehow make them aware of it, Wheeljack? This is a force stronger than we are capable of handling. It requires strong mental fortitude, yet even the strongest of us in that field has been bent beneath it.”

Soundwave forced himself not to look away in shame. Starscream moved one leg to press against his in silent support.

“The code has bested Soundwave. Do you believe the Insecticons will be strong enough to fight it, when he could not?”

“I think the bugs are smarter than we all give ‘em credit for. Hardshell wasn’t an idiot. And yeah, maybe one of them alone couldn’t do it, but they’re _bugs,_ they’ve got the handy ‘hive mentality’ thing. A thousand minds are better than one.”

“Wheeljack…”

“Do you have a better plan?” Wheeljack snapped, barely remembering to keep his voice lowered so the humans could not hear. “If we manage to turn them against her, she’s finished. Without them, she’s nothin’. And Silas would be scraplet chow.”

Dreadwing looked at Wheeljack, taking in the fiery determination in the Wrecker’s optics. He turned to look at Soundwave.

“It is a decent idea, considering who came up with it.” Starscream commented.

Soundwave had to agree. He met Dreadwing’s gaze and dug deep into his Earth audio files, selecting a clip from a long dead leader.

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Dreadwing inhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall so he could watch the Insecticons once more. “It may be our best option at the moment.” He loosely crossed his arms over his chest, getting as comfortable as he could.

“How do you propose we start?”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Maybe we should take a break, Starscream. You don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“No!” Starscream grit his denta together, pressing his servo flat against the wall to steady himself, “Don’t touch me! I can finish this!”

Knock Out begrudgingly took a step back, but he continued to watch his patient with a critical optic.

Starscream’s recovery was coming along nicely. He could get on and off the berth without help, and his pain level had reduced enough for Ratchet and Knock Out to give him mild inhibitors ‘as needed’, instead of constant doses through his IV. But, Starscream wanted his t-cog back, and the medics had promised to return it only once he was capable of walking one lap around the medical bay, unassisted.

Of course, Ratchet had immediately followed the promise with, “That won’t clear you to fly. It’s just a way for us to know that you are strong enough to handle the surgery.”

That didn’t matter to Starscream. At the moment, he just wanted to feel whole again.

Which led him to where he was now; steadying himself against the wall of the medbay as he fought to keep his legs from collapsing underneath him. He was _so close!_ Just a few more feet…just a few more steps…

Laserbeak trilled from his perch, wiggling the stabilizers on his back in encouragement. Starscream bit back a small smile. Focus, he needed to focus.

Oh but his legs _ached._ After being forced to go unused for as long as they had, his legs were struggling to keep up with his wishes. They had grown accustomed to the extra stability provided by the crutch or offered arms during his longer walks.

Starscream clenched his jaw a little tighter. He was not going to give in. Not now. Laserbeak was already being cleared for small bouts of easy flying, and if Starscream had to sit through another week of watching the minicon glide around the room while he was laid up in berth, he would eat his own spark.

His pede shifted. Holding back a low groan, Starscream removed his servo from the wall and focused on lifting and moving his leg. One more step complete.

Knock Out moved a little closer, but refrained from touching him. Starscream felt the questioning brush of the medic’s EM field against his own. It was clinically sharp and focused; extremely focused. As if Knock Out was quite literally turning every piece of his mind to the task at hand.

 _He probably is._ Starscream looked over at him from the corner of his optic, quickly taking in the look of almost unnecessary concentration on Knock Out’s face. _I know what he’ll being thinking about as soon as he stops working._

He returned his gaze to the shelf that marked the end of his victory lap.

“Once I finish this, I expect my t-cog to be returned to me quickly.”

“It will be.” Knock Out replied instantly, his voice carrying the slight monotone edge that came from stating the same thing over and over again.

“When will I be allowed to fly again?”

“When you can walk without flinching.”

Starscream huffed indignantly, but did not attempt to argue. He drew in a breath, exhaling hot air from his overworked internals, and forced himself forward. The pace was slow, and he limped from time to time, but little by little, step by step, Starscream completely his required lap.

A loud, happy whistle sounded from the medical berth as Laserbeak made his approval known. Knock Out managed a small smile and a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

“Well done, Starscream. Let’s get you back on the berth, and we’ll discuss your surgery.”

“I want to discuss it while we walk.”

“You really shouldn’t overwork yourself. You could set your recovery back if you stress your systems.”

“My legs are _stiff_ , Knock Out. I need to stretch them, and one lap around your medical bay is not sufficient enough for that.”

Knock Out arched an optic ridge slightly. Starscream raised his chin just so, his optics narrowing challengingly.

“You’re using your crutch.”

“Fine.”

Laserbeak trilled again. He pushed off from his spot on the berth and glided over to Starscream. He was caught gently and cradled against a slim chest.

“I suppose that means you want to come with us.”

Small stabilizers waved an affirmative.

“Let’s go then.” Knock Out handed Starscream his crutch. “We can check in with the others while we’re out.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Most of the others were found on the bridge, pouring themselves over maps and tools.

Rafael was busying himself with the current map of MECH activity. Bumblebee and Tripline stood on either side of the console, ready to answer any questions as the youngest human attempted to figure out all of MECHs possible locations.

Fowler paced along the far edge of a monitor station, his cell phone glued to his ear. He kept his voice low, but everyone knew that he had been on the phone with his superiors for hours. They hadn’t had any luck spotting Airachnid or Silas either.

Smokescreen was working with Lightyear and Arcee. The three of them, assisted by Jack (who was mostly just supervising, as Arcee did not want him to get stepped on), were taking stock of their supplies. Energon levels were higher than they’d ever been thanks to the almost frantic work pace of the mining teams. Everyone was afraid that Airachnid would find the energon before they could harvest it, leading the teams to work day and night without pause in the hopes that they could gather every last scrap before they were found out. Their efforts were showing.

Surprisingly, Knock Out’s attention, upon entering the room, was immediately given to Bulkhead. The large Wrecker was sitting against a wall, Miko on his shoulder, as he quietly cleaned and repaired some of the crew’s weaponry. His movements were slow, careful and precise, as he gave as much thought process as he could to his task. A task which, honestly, shouldn’t have required much thought from him to begin with.

Knock Out looked away at the sudden sharp pain in his spark. He understood exactly what Bulkhead was experiencing. The need to forget everything, the desire to drown out the world by throwing yourself completely into the job in front of you. Because if you did that, you didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to remember that someone was missing.

_You don’t have to remember that the berth was empty last night, or that the last person who disappeared never came back…_

Knock Out shook his head quickly, his field drawing in tight to mask the sudden spike of terror coursing through him.

Starscream’s attention fell immediately upon the trio gathered at the front of the bridge; Optimus, Megatron, and Ratchet were clustered around the central console to murmur amongst themselves.

“We need to discuss this. All our efforts have been put into finding our missing comrades, but we have given no thought as to how we are going to free them from Airachnid’s control.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I can’t make any promises.” Ratchet looked up at the much larger mechs, “I have no idea what this code looks like, a rudimentary understanding of how it works, and no knowledge of how it was engineered. Reversing its effects will prove to be a challenge.”

“That was exactly the hope when it was first created.” Megatron sounded bitter, “It was designed to be difficult, if not impossible to remove.”

“I have every faith in you, old friend.” Optimus set one servo on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“Optimus, I don’t want you to be too hopeful.” Ratchet kept his voice low. He looked back at Bulkhead before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge, “The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to remove the coding when we rescue the others. Shockwave was a genius, I have only seen one or two others who could have come close to comparing to him. If I had his notes, or even a general write up of the codes make up, I could feel more optimistic about our chances. But…”

“All of Shockwave’s notes concerning the code were destroyed, or lost.” Megatron finished for him, “And he has been deceased for several years now.”

“Exactly.” Ratchet looked back at his leader, “I don’t know how we are going to fix this one, Optimus…we may just have to defeat Airachnid and let the code go dormant again.”

“No.” Megatron’s voice was hard, defiant, and louder than he intended. The short order quickly drew the attention of the others. “I will not let them continue to carry that code. Even if the Code Master is dead, it is a burden no one should be, or will be, left with.”

Optimus turned his gaze to Megatron, taking in the waves of furious, stubborn denial now present in his field. When he spoke, his voice was softer, and he resisted the urge to reach out and offer comfort, “Shockwave did not create a reversal code? Or a way in which to scrub the coding from an infected system?”

“Not that I am aware.” Megatron forced himself to calm slightly, “He never mentioned one during his unveiling, and I ordered the project to be destroyed. I was not concerned with any more details after that.”

“We will find a way.”

“Hold on, I’m confused.” Miko stood up on Bulkhead’s shoulder, “It’s a code, right? Like a virus? Can’t you guys just…erase it? Or filter it out?”

“It’s not like a blood transfusion, Miko.” Raf spoke up from his work station, “They can’t just filter the code out. Their coding is part of them. It would be like us trying to cut out a sequence of our chromosomes to cure a disease.”

“But Shockwave put the new code _in_ them. Isn’t that just as hard as putting chromosomes into us? If that was possible, they should be able to remove it too.”

“The slave coding Shockwave has created acts as a mutation, Miko.” Ratchet cut in, “If I correctly understand what I have learned of your biology, that is the best comparison. It rewrites some of our basic coding, but instead of causing cancers, or resulting in extra limbs, as mutations do for you, it forces us to bend to someone else’s will. And while we have far better success reading and altering our coding than you do your chromosomes, removing this ‘mutation’ is still an almost impossible feat.”

Bulkhead tried to hide his flinch, and Knock Out attempted not to sink under the weight of what Ratchet had admitted, but Laserbeak did nothing to cover his sound of distress. Starscream quickly stroked a servo over his back, holding the minicon slightly closer. Ratchet lowered his optics.

“I’m sorry…but without Shockwave’s notes on the coding…”

He trailed off, leaving the room in a deep, uneasy silence.

Megatron turned away from the group, watching out the wide windows at the front of the bridge. Optimus looked toward him slightly, concerned about the sharp edged of frustration cutting through his field. Once more he resisted the urge to offer a comforting touch, knowing that Megatron would not approve. He did, however, allow his field to brush against Megatron’s. It too was colored with frustration, though it was softened by hope and determination. The softer touch helped Megatron collect himself. He drew in a deep vent. After a moment of thought he straightened his back, his optics still looking straight ahead.

“Suppose you built a weapon. Something so powerful, so ingenious, that you believe it could help win a war you so desperately want to claim victory in. Now imagine your leader demands that you destroy it without even attempting to put it to use. In your mind, what is the most _logical_ course of action?”

More silence. Bumblebee and Raf looked at Tripline, who merely shrugged quietly. Miko raised an eyebrow at Bulkhead, both of them confused. Fowler even paused in his phone call to give June a perplexed look, hoping she could explain why Megatron was suddenly speaking in riddles. She made a helpless gesture.

Optimus’ optics narrowed, then widened slightly as understanding dawned on him. But it was Starscream who gave the answer aloud.

“You hide it, until the leader is willing to see reason.”

Knock Out blinked, “You think Shockwave defied a direct order and _kept_ the coding?”

“That is exactly what I think.” Megatron turned slightly to meet Optimus’ optics. “We may still be able to look at Shockwave’s notes.”

Bumblebee exchanged a curious glance with Smokescreen. ::Where do you think they are?::

Optimus did not look away from Megatron. The warlord’s field began to ripple with an early sense of victory, mingling nicely with Optimus’ ever growing hope.

“On Cybertron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If any of you reading this are on Tumblr, don't be afraid to come talk to be about this story! Or even just Transformers in general. I'd love meet and talk to you more, and we can geek out together! [Just shoot me a message!](http://chills-of-fire.tumblr.com/)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped to be updating faster than I am right now. *sigh* I'll figure out a system for this eventually.
> 
> But anyway, enjoy the chapter!

The moons were bright over Cybertron. For once the sky was void of clouds or smog, leaving the moons and stars to shine down on the dead planet. Colorful swirls of nebulas and galaxies, shimmering like whirlpools in the night, could be seen among the pinpricks of light.

If they had not been in such a hurry, the group might have taken some time to admire the familiar sky. As it was, they were having a hard enough time ignoring the pains of nostalgia that came as they travelled across the burnt, gray surface of what had once been their home.

No time had been wasted aboard the _Nemesis._ As soon as the shocked silence had faded after Optimus’ declaration, all those aboard had jumped into action. No orders needed to be given, no direction required. The ship was flown to the Earth’s moon, and to the space bridge hidden behind it. Megatron pulled up the list of known locations where Shockwave had kept his labs, and Starscream gave the coordinates for the one where Shockwave had met his end.

“I can lead us through it.” Arcee offered, moving to stand beside Optimus, “Cliff and I escaped from there before.”

The troops were split into several groups; a few small ones would be traveling to Cybertron, while a much larger one was ordered to remain alert on the ship in case MECH activity was reported. They did not want to miss a chance to rescue those who had been taken.

Megatron and the Autobots departed with three groups of Decepticon soldiers; two Eradicons and two Vehicons per team. Optimus had felt uneasy about both himself and Megatron leaving the _Nemesis,_ but Megatron refused to stay behind, and it was clear that the Autobots did not trust Megatron enough to follow his commands without Optimus’ presence. Starscream had barely kept the annoyance out of his voice when he declared that he and Knock Out could handle running the ship while they were gone.

So they had left, staying together as one large squad to explore the first lab. No sense in splitting up if they didn’t have to.

The lab in Kaon had been in shambles. Rooms that had been spared from the blast of the imploding space bridge so many years ago were not spared the effects of time. Metal dust covered everything, and there were patches of rust that were continuing their slow creep up walls and over surfaces. Closer to the blast, in areas where the ceiling had been torn apart, corrosion from the acid rains added to the destruction, leaving nothing useable behind. The room that had housed the space bridge was completely inaccessible due to the collapse of the ceiling. The now twisted beams that had once held it up were charred, warped, and melted, as were the chunks of Cybertron’s crust that had fallen into the underground area.

A collective sigh of relief had washed through the group when they discovered a still working monitor, kept safe in a back room. The relief was short lived, however. It quickly became clear that the information still stored there was not what they needed; nor did it give any clues as to if the information was still out there.

In the end, they had been forced to split up in order to search out the remaining labs.

Ratchet, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Lightyear were sent straight North, while Arcee, Smokescreen, and Tripline were set off to the North West. The three Decepticon groups were split to the South, leaving Optimus and Megatron to take the North East.

That had been cycles ago.

Megatron flew low over Cybertron’s flat landscape, keeping Optimus in his sights beneath him. They had not spoken a word since they had separated from the others, each lost in their own thoughts.

There were only two known labs located in their direction. The first one had turned out to be nothing more than a burnt out shell of a laboratory. Whether the destruction had been Shockwave’s doing or not was unclear. So they had set off for the second location; a lab set up to the West of the Well of Allsparks. It was fairly new, in the grand scheme of things, created soon after Cybertron had been deserted. Megatron had not missed the uneasiness that had washed through Optimus’ field upon learning of the lab’s whereabouts, but he had not commented on it, just as Optimus had not voiced his concerns aloud.

It wasn’t until they were passing the remains of Crystal City that Optimus spoke, the sound of his voice filtering through Megatron’s comm unexpectedly.

“Do you truly believe that Shockwave would have defied your orders?”

“I believe it is a possibility.”

“That surprises me. Shockwave has always seemed loyal.”

“He is loyal. But his loyalty is different than Soundwave’s. Shockwave does what he believes is best for Cybertron, and for the Decepticon cause. He does not believe in destroying anything that may prove useful. And he seemed to truly believe that his code could be put to good use.”

Megatron flew slightly lower, almost side by side with Optimus’ form now.

“Did you travel all this way to search his labs with doubts in your mind?”

“I am simply trying to make plans for the possible outcomes here.” Optimus adjusted his mirror so that he could see Megatron better. “I may have my doubts about Shockwave. But I trust you. If you say there is a possibility that the code is still here, then I believe you.”

If they had been in root mode, Optimus would have seen the tiniest of smiles attempting to appear on Megatron’s lips. He would have noticed the small flicker of warmth in Megatron’s optics, like the waver of a soft flame whose fire was there to heal, rather than destroy. And if both of them had had more time, they would have taken a moment to consider how different things had been the last time Megatron had led Optimus through a dark and dangerous place, where Optimus had begrudgingly followed out of necessity.

As it were, Optimus was able to catch the little adjustment of armor of Megatron’s alt mode, the barely there shifts that Megatron had never been able to hide when he was pleased with something. And though they did not have time to spare for softer words about change and trust, they allowed themselves to drift closer so that their fields could weave together. Their emotions were similar, so much so that without deeper thought, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Hope, tinges of desperation, fleeting feelings of fear, a shared stubborn determination, and a mutual reassurance that resonated between them.

They travelled this way for several miles, neither of them wanting to pull away and break the connection. It wasn’t until they reached the middle ground between Crystal City and the Well, to the East of the Titanium Turnpike, that they separated. Towers and tall spires led Megatron to return to the sky where he could simply fly above them. Optimus was forced to weave between them, sometimes having to switch to root mode in order to climb over or through debris that blocked the roads. The travel took time. They were back to being silent. Both of them remembered the long battles that had taken place here.

The Decepticons had so badly wanted control over the Well; control that the Autobots had held for a very long time. The carnage and destruction had, at some point, become too much for anyone to attempt to clear. As Cybertron had steadily grown weaker and weaker, and the reality that _leaving_ would be their only chance of survival grew more apparent, clearing a few roads had not seemed so important anymore.

“I never intended for this to happen.” Megatron’s voice, almost soft, almost sad, was so unexpected, Optimus paused so that he could look up at him.

“Nor did I.”

Several cycles passed before they were clear of the wreckage. After that, they travelled quickly, and it wasn’t long before Megatron was leading the way down into Shockwave’s forgotten lab. This one was smaller than the one in Kaon; set up more for research and surveillance than development. But it did contain several forgotten datapads and one unbroken monitor.

“Alright.” Megatron picked up the datapads and handed them to Optimus. If their digits brushed and lingered for longer than was necessary, there was no one else there to judge. “Let us see if Shockwave left us anything.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Nothing. Again.”

Smokescreen dropped the datapad he was combing through, obviously irritated.

His group had been sent to look into three different labs. So far, they weren’t having any luck.

The lab hidden in Blaster City contained more chemicals than data. Tripline mentioned that Shockwave would sometimes keep his research on a separate datapad when he was doing his experiments, so that the information was never in the same place as his more sensitive work.

“He lost a lot of progress during the war when you Autobots stormed a lab in Polyhex. Files downloaded, equipment stolen…so he started keeping things in different locations, just in case.”

Arcee had rubbed her temples and ordered them to move on.

Slaughter City had been more promising. The lab was hidden beneath the city, even beneath the gladiator pits found there. It had been large and filled with machines and tools, some of which made Smokescreen cringe just by the way they looked. Obviously Shockwave had done some not so nice things there.

A few datapads made references to the code. It was enough to make the trio begin a frantic search of the entire lab. Tripline even cut a medical berth (Smokescreen refused to think of the bots who might have been tortured there) in half in the hopes that Shockwave might have hidden an information drive inside it.

In the end they came up empty handed, and set off for the last set of coordinates.

The final lab was set inside the Sonic Canyons. Large outcrops of the surrounded planetary crust hid the entrance so well that, even with exact coordinates, they passed it three times before Arcee found it. So far, they were finding nothing.

“Keep looking, Smokescreen.” Arcee didn’t stop her search of the labs computer. “We can’t afford to miss anything.”

“I know.” Smokescreen picked up another datapad. “I just really want to find something. The idea of that…that _coding_ inside the others…” He shuddered a bit before settling against a wall to start searching through the pad. “I’m getting a little nervous with all these dead ends.”

“The others might find something, even if we don’t.” Tripline spoke up as he walked back into the room they were currently in. “There’s nothing else in the lab. If the code is here, it’s in this room.”

“Well, it’s not in the computer,” Arcee sighed, her servos falling away from the keyboard. “If the datapads don’t have it, we might have to go back empty handed.”

“We can always try to find more labs in the area.” Tripline sat down, three datapads in his servo, “Every Decepticon knows that for every lab Shockwave told us about, there were three more he didn’t.”

“Megatron allowed that?” Arcee took the datapads Smokescreen was offering to her, standing beside him as she began to go through the first one.

“He didn’t really have a choice. It wasn’t like he could punish him, Shockwave was the best scientist he had. Besides, he always gave Megatron whatever he needed. The only scientist we had that could have rivaled Shockwave was…well, he was…different.”

“Bad different?” Smokescreen looked up from his research curiously.

“Strange different. He was an informant for us, but none of the information he gave seemed all that great. Even when he provided intel, we were still a step or two behind you. And don’t get me wrong, his inventions were astounding! But working around him was exhausting. He liked to talk. Mostly about himself and how amazing he was.”

“He was a spy?” Arcee and Smokescreen exchanged a glance, “What was his name?”

Tripline shrugged, “Don’t remember. I only met him a few times. Face mask. Transformed into a jet. Paintjob so eccentric it rivaled Knock Out’s.” He paused, “Well, eccentric for Decepticons. You Autobots seem to enjoy the brighter color schemes.”

“We just know how to have more fun.” Smokescreen said. He got more comfortable where he sat, “But not right now. We have to find Shockwave’s notes.”

Arcee turned to watch the younger Autobot for a moment, a small smile gracing her lips.

Tripline pretended not to see it, quickly following Smokescreen’s lead and burying himself in the notes in front of him.

Several cycles later, the trio emerged from the lab, defeated.

“I really hope the others found something…” Smokescreen murmured.

Tripline nodded silently, his field rippling with mild curiousity.

“What are you thinking about?” Arcee looked over at him.

“I’m just trying to figure out…why hasn’t Optimus, or anyone for that matter, thought about using Solus’ Forge to fix this mess?”

“The Forge isn’t a medical tool.” Smokescreen’s door wings perked slightly, “It’s for tools, weapons…you know. Forged things.”

“But it’s supposed to allow you to make whatever you want, right?” Tripline stopped in his tracks, wanting to focus on the conversation. “So why can we ‘want’ to repair the coding?”

Smokescreen lit up, “I know the answer to that!”

=.=.=.==.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“The Forge is a mystical relic of the Primes,” Ratchet pushed a piece of fallen building out of his way, “The slave coding Shockwave created is new technology, designed to merge with our own coding. Coding which has evolved many times since the Primes were created. The Forge might not be able to tell the difference between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ coding after all this time.”

“What if it could?” Bulkhead asked as he helped Bumblebee move what had once been the roof of a very expansive building, “What if we’re ignoring something that could help Jackie?”

“The Forge was not created to heal Cybertronians, Bulkhead.” Ratchet sighed, “If we tried to use it on the others, who knows what we would create? We could end up turning them all into walking weapons, or massive panels of living armor.”

::Too many unknowns for you to be comfortable?:: Bumblebee asked, the roof falling to the side with a loud crash.

“Exactly.”

Bulkhead sighed, “I just want to know that Jackie will be okay…”

::He will be.:: Bumblebee put a servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder. ::We’ll find something to help him, and the others.::

“I hope so.” Bulkhead looked at the hidden door they had all uncovered, “Guess my hopes aren’t so high since Lightyear decided to bail on us.”

The Eradicon had offered to scout ahead miles before the group had reached their assigned lab in Stanix. He had disappeared from view, and none of them had seen him since.

::He might have seen something.:: Bumblebee offered, ::Or Megatron might have called him.::

“Optimus would have called us, then.” Ratchet moved forward to examine the door, trying to see how it was locked.

“Or he’s just a flaky ‘Con we never should have trusted to go off alone.” Bulkhead said stiffly.

“Optimus trusts Megatron, and Megatron controls his troops.” Ratchet said, “And we trust Optimus. That’s all that matters.”

“I know…” Bulkhead rubbed his head, “I’m just…”

::Worried.: Bumblebee squeezed his shoulder, ::We all are…::

“Well our worrying is going to have to wait.” Ratchet pulled at a creatively concealed latch, and the door began to slowly creak open. “We have a lab to look through.”

The lab was hidden beneath the remains of an energon-winery on the West side of Stanix. To the casual observer, the entrance looked like it led to a cellar beneath the building. It was only when one looked closer that the newer and more secure design became apparent.

Once the door was opened, the ground sloped steeply downward. It levelled out several hundred meters below the surface, and ended at a large metal door that looked thick enough to survive even the strongest explosive.

A large metal door that was already open, cracked just enough to allow light from inside to spill out into the hall.

“Do you think Lightyear beat us here?” Bulkhead asked, his voice low.

::Why wouldn’t he have waited for us?:: Bumblebee regarded the door with a healthy dose of suspicion.

“Why would he have disappeared in the first place? He’s a ‘Con.” Bulkhead watched the gap between the door and its frame, waiting for a shadow to move. “No telling what they’ll do.”

::Lightyear isn’t so bad…:: Bumblebee tilted his head. Something felt off about this.

“We are not going to have a debate about Decepticon trustworthiness.” Ratchet hissed. “We need to search the lab. Be on your guard.” One arm morphed into a blade, and he crept forward, keeping his pede steps light as he approached the door. Bumblebee brought out his blasters, and Bulkhead’s wrecking balls emerged from his own arms before they followed suit.

The door swung open silently, allowing the trio to enter without raising any alarms. The lab was comprised of three rooms; one storage room, which could be easily identified as the door was open, and Ratchet could see shelves filled with beakers, microscopes, and dozens of other tools and pieces of equipment; one room that remained a mystery, as it was still closed off; and the main room they now stood in.

Several long tables took up the center of the room, while the walls were filled with more shelves, most of which were empty. Bumblebee moved to examine one of them, hoping to find a datapad or two. Bulkhead moved to the still closed door, watching it in case anyone or anything attempted to jump out. Ratchet let out a small sigh of relief when he saw the one computer console the room had to offer, tucked out of the way in a corner.

It turned on quickly and without hassle. Ratchet immediately set to work searching through the files, optics devouring every scrap of information they passed over.

When the closed door Bulkhead was examining slid open with a soft _whoosh_ of air, he should have looked up. Being so deeply involved in his task, Ratchet barely spared a thought to the strange sound, telling himself that Bulkhead had opened it himself. It was only after Bulkhead yelled out, followed by a loud crash, that Ratchet whirled around in shock. He had just enough time to spot the Wrecker, groaning on the floor beneath a large dent in the wall, before Bumblebee was thrown directly into his chest.

They slammed into the wall before sliding down on to the floor in a tangled pile of limbs. Bumblebee let out a sluggish _whirr,_ his optics flickering as he fought to stay conscious. Ratchet could see a decent dent in the young scout’s helm. He struggled to move, to stand up, but the harsh impact with the wall left him momentarily stunned, and the weight of Bumblebee’s limp form across his chest kept him pinned to the floor.

“Don’t move!” Ratchet couldn’t see over Bumblebee’s body, but he recognized Lightyear’s voice as he shouted his command.

“Decepticon scum!” Bulkhead yelled as he began to pull himself to his pedes, exchanging his wrecking balls for blasters.

Ratchet looked up, attempting to see his fellow Autobot, to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

The only thing he saw was the glow of a charging blaster, aimed directly at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points to whoever guesses the person Tripline was talking about!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this took so long. I blame Silas, he didn't want to cooperate.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience, I promise I won't make you wait that long again! 
> 
> To everyone who guessed Brainstorm after last chapter; congrats, you were right!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

The clock read 4:16 AM when Silas opened his optics.

He blinked once, twice, stared at the wall as he tried to decide what had woken him.

There were no strange lights, no abnormal sounds, but something felt off. A nagging presence that seemed to demand his attention hovered behind him. It was more than just a mental awareness, there was a physical sensation that warned him that someone was close by. A tingling _itch_ that seemed almost like an extension of his body; like feeling something without touching it.

It clicked after a second that he was tuning into his EM field; reading the room around him with this almost sixth sense.

_Someone is in my room._

As soon as the thought flashed though his mind, Silas flipped over, the cannon on his shoulder activating as he attempted to find the intruder.

He froze at the sight of a blade inches from his face.

“Tell me,” Airachnid was looking down at him, one servo on her hip, the other hanging by her side. Her extra limbs were poised, ready to strike, though only one was trained on Silas’ body. “Why _exactly_ do you want access to my slave coding, Silas? You wouldn’t be planning on using it against me, now would you?”

Silas blinked, “And what, precisely, are you talking about?” His voice was steady, unamused, almost bored, “It is extremely early, and I am in no mood to play games with you.”

“Do not play dumb with me. I find it tedious. And you will _not_ enjoy it if I find myself bored.” The blade turned just slightly, as if searching for a better angle over Silas’ head, “You told your men to look into my coding. Why would you need to do that?”

Airachnid tilted her head, watching him closely, “At first, I thought you were hoping to start your own coded army, but _surely_ you can control your men without the help of my special weapon; what with you being such an _astounding_ commander.”

Silas narrowed his optic slightly, easily catching the sneer in her voice.

“You and your men seem to get along well. They respect you, they listen. So it’s not them you feel the need to control, is it?” Airachnid brushed the back of her blade along Silas’ head. Silas refused to flinch, instead meeting her optics with a fierce, silent glare. Airachnid leaned in close, one servo coming up to cup his jaw. Her blade never wavered, even as she leaned in uncomfortably close; close enough for Silas to feel the heat of her breath ghosting over his face.

“It’s me.”

“Your slave coding is a unique piece of engineering.” Silas held Airachnid’s gaze steadily, not twitching even as the blade ghosted closer to his neck, “I am intrigued by newer technology. Studying this code is a logical idea.”

“Ah, logic. You sound like someone I used to know,” A small smirk twitched over Airachnid’s lips, “before he got himself killed.”

“My condolences.” Silas deadpanned.

“He gave everything he had to give. Now.” The blade came to a sudden stop, pressing sharply against a major energon line in Silas’ neck. “The code is _mine,_ Silas. Mine to use, mine to hide, mine to control. It is not for you to study. You have your tools, I have mine. Together, we achieve our goal. Is that clear?”

“No.” Silas sat up, mindful of the razor sharp edge on his throat, “We are supposed to be working together, are we not? Your code allows you to control the major part of our fighting force with an ease I have never seen before. That makes your code valuable. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but my work is centered around learning about valuable technology and information.”

“Do not try to persuade me into seeing your thought process. We both know why you want this.” She grinned, her fanged denta flashing in the scarce light of the room, “You want to be able to take control of me, and my slaves. Ah ah!” She pressed her servo to his lips as Silas opened his mouth, “Think carefully before you attempt to lie to me.”

A low rumble sounded through Silas’ chest. His optic hardened, the glare aimed at her intensifying. “Soundwave told you, didn’t he?”

The grin grew, and Airachnid patted his cheek, “Smart boy.” She drew back slightly so that she was no longer hovering over him, “Soundwave was behaving himself. He informed his master that she might be in danger. It seems he’s turning into a very good slave after all.”

Silas did not respond, but the whiplash of hatred and anger that tore through his field was all the answer Airachnid needed. She ran her blade up his neck, bringing the point just under his chin.

“You’re useful to me, Silas, it would be a shame to have to kill you before our plan is finished. Your little project seems like it will be rather useful, once you get it running. But,” The blade pressed up hard, forcing Silas to tilt his head back to avoid being cut, “I am not one to tolerate attempts on my life. So before you do anything stupid, do keep one thing in mind.” Airachnid set a servo on his chest, her digits stroking almost lovingly across the central seam. She leaned in close, pressing her lips against Silas’ audio receiver.

“I’ve torn this body apart once already, I know where all the weak spots are.”

And with that she was gone, jumping lightly away from his makeshift berth and walking out the door with little more than a light laugh that drove Silas’ rage to a boiling point.

Silas gritted his denta harshly, the sound audible in the room, and forced himself to breathe deeply. He was _not_ going to allow Airachnid to get the better of him.

_Two can play at this game, Airachnid. You want to keep your slaves so badly? Fine. I’ll just make it very clear that you are not the only one in charge._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The Insecticons hissed angrily as Wheeljack and Dreadwing approached them, their red optical bands glowing harshly, their bodies tensed. Everything about them told the two mechs to back off, to turn around and go to sleep.

Dreadwing knew they could not afford to do that.

“We wish to speak with you, that is all.” Dreadwing held his servos up, moving slowly. Wheeljack followed his movements, hunching low, but he was much more tense, holding himself stiffly.

A warning growl sounded out from the group, and several Insecticons shifted in order to draw their legs beneath their bodies, ready to pounce.

Dreadwing came to a stop, signaling Wheeljack to do the same. He could hear the small scuffing sounds as Soundwave shifted in his place against the wall.

“Please, this is important. I have worked with all of you before, you know that I respect you.”

Snarls echoed from more than eight of the Insecticons, their mingling fields formed a wall of irritation and displeasure.

“For frag sakes, this conversation would go a lot faster if you’d use your words.” Wheeljack snapped, “What’s the matter? Spider got your glossa?”

“Wheeljack!” Dreadwing shot him a look, obviously displeased.

“Don’t snap at me.” Wheeljack gestured toward the Hive, “You know they can speak. We don’t have time to be playin’ games. Some of us have people to get back to!”

“You are not the only one worried about a loved one!” Dreadwing growled, “But we are not going to receive any assistance from them if you continue to berate them!”

“What, you don’t think it’s strange that they never talk anymore? How long have we been here, Dreadwing? A few days, yeah? You ever hear a word from any of them?”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics at the Wrecker before turning his attention back to the Hive. The growls and hissing had faded off, though the Insecticons were no less tense. He took a moment to think, reviewing the last few days.

“He is correct…you have been unusually silent.” He looked from one being to another. Slowly his optics softened, and he spoke with a low voice, “She ordered you to keep silent when she was around, didn’t she?”

An Insecticon at the front of the group growled lowly, “We respect our Queen’s wishes. She does not require our input. So we do not provide it.”

“Ever think that loyalty isn’t what’s been drivin’ you?” Wheeljack met the burning gaze of the speaker, “Ever think that there was somethin’ else at work?”

The Insecticon hissed, “Just because you are not loyal to your leader-“

“I am loyal.” Wheeljack cut him off with a snarl of his own, “My boss respects the people under his command. What’s Airachnid ever done for you?”

“Enough.” Dreadwing moved between them, hoping to avoid a full out argument, “Please, does this not strike you as odd? Just over a month ago, you were serving under Lord Megatron. I took several of you on patrols, you were trusted to defend our energon mines. Were you not loyal to Megatron then?”

The Insecticon’s visor flashed, as if his gaze had shifted for a moment before returning to Dreadwing. He settled, seeming to be listening to what Dreadwing was saying.

“You respected Soundwave, you respected me. Now, you ignore us unless ordered to interact, you attacked Soundwave and myself, and you follow the orders of one who barely speaks to you. Is that not strange to you?”

The Hive shifted, their fields slowly beginning to swirl with uncertainty.

“Here’s another question.” Wheeljack pushed Dreadwing out of his line of sight, “Have any of you ever attempted to _not_ follow Airachnid’s orders? Any of you ever try to say no?”

That got them thinking; Dreadwing could see several of them looking at each other questioningly.

“You have all seen how Airachnid controls us, how she bends us to her will. You have all heard the discussions about the slave coding. How did Soundwave come to have it, if Airachnid only carries the Master Code?”

There was a long pause before a second Insecticon, resting more to the left of the group, spoke up, “We are unsure. She spoke of waking him up, to hack into information he may have stored, but we were ordered to sleep until the next morning. When we woke, he was fighting against her commands.”

Dreadwing turned to look at Wheeljack, whose lip was curling with disgust.

“She probably ordered them to sleep so that they wouldn’t be aware when she used them to transfer the code. She’s been hidin’ this the whole time.”

“Do you think the code can prevent them from remembering?”

“If it can make Soundwave kiss her fraggin’ pede, I’m sure it can wipe a few kliks from their memory.”

“Are you suggesting our Queen is lying to us?” A third Insecticon stalked forward, his limbs stiff and voice filled with rage, “Is that what you expect us to believe?”

“Yeah.” Wheeljack glared up as the newest member of the conversation loomed over him, not backing down from the potential danger, “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

The Insecticon gnashed his denta, growling deep in his chest, “And why should we listen to you, Wrecker? You are the one who killed Hardshell. You are the one who injured dozens of our brethren! This is just another attempt to weaken our Hive!”

“Hardshell had it comin’!” Wheeljack snapped, “It’s not my problem that you’re too whipped to see the fraggin’ truth! Airachnid is usin’ you!”

“Wheeljack, enough!” Dreadwing took a step back as the Hive began to hiss again, their anger stirred from the ongoing confrontation. A particularly loud snarl sounded from the Insecticon in front of Wheeljack.

“That is exactly what I was going to say.”

And suddenly everything stopped as Silas stepped into the room. He strode toward the group, pedes connecting solidly with the floor on each step. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, optics glaring daggers at all of them.

“Attempting to start a riot, are we?” Silas shook his head, “How bold. I told Airachnid she needed to keep you all on a tighter leash.” He came to a stop beside Wheeljack and the nameless Insecticon still staring him down. “On your knees,” His gaze flicked to Dreadwing, “both of you.”

Echoing clangs sounded throughout the room as both captives collapsed, their knees buckling under the weight of the command. Out of the corner of his optic, Dreadwing could see Soundwave stiffen where he still sat against the wall, though he kept his face as expressionless as he could.

“I see Airachnid has not withdrawn the command to follow my orders.” Silas stared down at Wheeljack, his expression cold, “Though, that could change at any time. I believe now would be the perfect time to remind you two that she is not the only one in charge here. If either of you should try anything, you will regret it.”

“What’s the matter?” Wheeljack sneered, “You and the misses havin’ a little spat? She’s probably got your bearings in a vice-“

_Thwack!_

The back of Silas’ servo connected hard with the side of Wheeljack’s head, sending the kneeling Wrecker to the floor in an instant.

“Undisciplined. You call yourself a soldier.” Silas snorted in disgust. “You and Dreadwing need to learn to respect the chain of command. Airachnid may find your outbursts to be amusing, but I do not.” He moved away from Wheeljack, stepping closer to Dreadwing.

 _What is he planning?_ Dreadwing forced himself to look straight ahead, not reacting as Wheeljack pushed himself up again, grimacing at the energon that dropped from his mouth.

“Loyalty and obedience is rewarded. Disrespect is punished.” Silas looked over his shoulder at the Insecticon still hovering near Wheeljack. He shifted nervously, unsure if he was supposed to back away. “You have served my plans well. Your reward is the privilege of punishing Wheeljack. Provided, of course, that you don’t kill him. I still need him to be useable.”

The Insecticon fidgeted, surprised by the offer, but did not move.

“I’m serious. He killed a member of your Hive, Hardshell, correct? You seem to be the most angry about it. It seems fitting. He’s all yours. Just keep him in one piece.”

This time, there was no hesitation. Wheeljack yelled out as the Insecticon pounced without warning. Sharp denta crunched through plating as Wheeljack attempted to raise a servo to defend himself. The Insecticon whipped his head to one side, and with a horrible crack and screech, Wheeljack’s elbow popped and twisted. When his arm was released, it fell limp at his side, bent at an unnatural angle. Energon splattered against the floor as sharp claws raked down Wheeljack’s side, ripping jagged wounds into his plating and protoform.

“Stop this!” Dreadwing yelled over Wheeljack’s agonized shout. He moved to stand, ready to defend the struggling Wrecker. Pain erupted across his face, and he found himself flat on his back in an instant.

A heavy pede slammed down on his chest, pinning him to the floor as he lay prone. Through the short burst of static that filled his vision, Dreadwing could see Silas standing over him. The knuckles on his right fist were spotted with energon from where they had connected with Dreadwing’s face.

“You are the more competent soldier.” Silas began, “Silent. Strong. Slightly more obedient.”

Dreadwing glared up at him, hyper aware of the warm energon that was trickling down his dented cheek, “Why are you doing this? You need us!”

“I need Soundwave. Your capture was merely an added bonus, as far as I’m concerned. Megatron is the only other person I am interested in. You are just extra muscle.” Silas paused at the sound of tearing metal. Wheeljack began to howl in agony, but Dreadwing could not see past Silas to know what had happened.

“Be silent!”

The howl cut off with a sharp pop of static as Wheeljack’s voice box forcibly shut down. Something clattered to the floor, and there was a loud snarl before Wheeljack flew across the room, smacking hard onto the floor mere feet from Soundwave. Dreadwing watched helplessly as Wheeljack struggled to climb to his pedes. Energon flowed freely from the wounds in his sides. One winglet had been torn from his back, leaving behind a gory stump of wires and bubbling energon.

Wheeljack didn’t stand a chance. The Insecticon was on him before he had pulled himself onto his knees.

Dreadwing cringed as a fist larger than his head connected with Wheeljack’s face. He forced himself to look away, glaring up at Silas once more.

“Airachnid will not be pleased with this!”

Silas leaned down, pressing down harder against Dreadwing’s chest until the metal groaned warningly.

“Why do you think I am doing this?”

Dreadwing winced as the pede was ground against the glass of his cockpit. He lifted his arms up to grip at Silas’ leg.

“Airachnid seems to think that she holds all the power in our little arrangement. I intend to show her she’s wrong. But, I can’t attack her, now can I? I do need her healthy if I want the Insecticons to keep working as well as they do. So, how do you attack a power figure?”

Silas stepped back.

Dreadwing took that moment to breathe, quickly attempting to push himself off the floor. He didn’t get far.

Silas drove his pede hard into Dreadwing’s side, driving him back to the ground. Plating buckled under the blow, and Dreadwing curled in on himself, giving a small shout.

“You attack the support.” Silas kicked out again, connecting firmly with Dreadwing’s stomach. All the air in his systems left in a large _whoosh_ through his vents, leaving him gasping with one arm curled around himself.

“Sometimes the best way to punish someone, is by punishing those around them.” Silas knelt down beside Dreadwing, ignoring the loud clangs that signaled Wheeljack being thrown around behind him. “Airachnid likes to hide behind her little army; behind the strength you all provide for her, even if it is unwilling.” He grabbed Dreadwing by the throat, pulling him up to look him in the optic.

“I intend to take that away from her.”

Dreadwing gave a strained grunt as he was thrown back to the floor. There was a brief second of reprieve before that heavy, blunt pede struck out again. It caught him square in the face. He choked briefly as hot energon flooded his mouth, running down his intake before he could spit it out.

The next blow was at his hip. Pain raced down his leg and half way up his torso, and Dreadwing hurriedly rolled away from the source, facing the Hive once more.

He was unable to see much, as the following kick connected dead center on his spinal strut. Blackness threatened to take over his vision, but the code prevented him from passing out.

_This is your punishment; take it._

But if Dreadwing had been able to see the Hive, he would have seen the few frames that shifted with uncertainty. He would have noticed the way two Insecticons moved closer to each other, mandibles clicking as they murmured quietly amongst themselves.

If Silas had been slightly more skilled at reading EM fields, he would have sensed the confused doubt that was beginning to swirl through the Hive’s field, even mixed as it was with the anger and satisfaction that was still present.

If he had looked up for even a moment, he would have seen the looks of disgust that came from the two conversing Insecticons when they glanced at him.

And if any of them had looked toward the door that led deeper into the base, they would have seen the glowing purple optics that watched from the shadows.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“So Tripline, I have to ask.” Arcee drifted to one side to avoid a large chunk of building that blocked her path. Tripline moved a little closer so they were driving side by side, tilting his side view mirror to focus some attention on her. “Why did you tell us about your spy? It seems a little risky to me, even with an active truce.”

“It is.” Tripline agreed, “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned him. But honestly? I don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t care that Megatron might pull your wheels off for spilling military secrets?” Smokescreen sped up slightly as he drove over an angled rock, unable to resist the thrill of that small jump. He landed hard on his tires and moved to his original spot on Arcee’s right side.

“Okay, one, he wouldn’t do that.” Tripline slowed down as they passed over a stretch of uneven road, “Two, no. I don’t care about the war anymore. I’m tired of the fighting, the secrets, the killing…I’m just tired. A lot of us are. I don’t think any of us really knew that until the fighting stopped, but now that it has…”

“You don’t want to go back to it.” Arcee finished for him. “I understand…I don’t think any of us do.”

“I just don’t see the point anymore. Our world is dead, we’re stranded on an alien planet with possibly limited energon, and now we’re being picked off by a couple of sadists. Why go back to killing each other?”

“Maybe this time to truce will stick.”

“I think it will.” Smokescreen bounced lightly, his front wheel catching the edge of a shallow pothole. “Optimus and Megatron are in too deep to back out this time.”

“In too deep?” Tripline asked curiously.

“Yeah. You know, with each other?”

Silence.

“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t see it. I’m surprised they haven’t been ‘facing each other through the berth already.”

“Smokescreen!”

“What? You don’t see it?”

“I see it.” Tripline sounded thoughtful, “Maybe if they actually ‘faced they stop arguing…”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Arcee sped up, bolting ahead of the two mechs.

Seconds later, all three of them screeched to a halt as emergency messages lit up their HUDS.

_Get to Stanix now!_

“Lightyear!” Tripline almost shouted, his tires squealing against Cybertron’s surface as he rushed to take off. Arcee and Smokescreen followed right behind him, all three of their engines straining as they pushed them to the limit.

“Arcee…”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Smokescreen.” Arcee said quickly, knowing that he was going to want to ask about the layer of fearful urgency that colored the glyphs of the message, “Just drive.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus’ engine whined as he forced it to go faster, the boost from his overdrive barely helping him keep up with Megatron’s pace.

“You are certain that they are in danger?” Megatron flew low over Optimus, warily watching their surroundings as they raced toward Stanix.

“It has been a long time since I have felt that much urgency in one of Bulkhead’s messages.” Optimus turned sharply to avoid the remains of an overturned energon tank. “Something is wrong.”

Megatron did not question him again.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Heat radiated off the blaster, making Ratchet’s face prickle uncomfortably. It took him a moment to focus on the weapon, the bright purple glow blinding him.

Rectangular in shape, vastly different from the signature triangle that the Vehicons and Eradicons had, it hummed with enough energy to almost match Megatron’s own cannon. Ratchet let his gaze drift upward, taking in the purple plating that overlapped the gray metal of the weapon itself. Optics widened as they took in the purple biolights on the Cybertronian’s shoulder, the unique design leaving no room for doubt.

_But it’s not possible!_

Ratchet followed the shoulder line toward the head, unable to accept what he already knew to be true.

_He’s dead! It can’t possibly be…_

“Shockwave!” Lightyear yelled out. Ratchet could hear the uncertainty in his voice even as he heard the sound of a second blaster charging. “Don’t shoot!”

“Autobot intruders are to be terminated.” Shockwave’s signature monotone carried easily through the room. “They are of no use to me.”

“Shoot him and I’ll blow your head off, ‘Con!” Bulkhead yelled. Both blasters were trained on Shockwave, his optics bright with anger.

“Hold your fire!” It was clear in his voice that Lightyear was not comfortable with giving orders to someone who had once been his superior, but he did not back down, “They’re with me!”

“Explain.”

“We have a truce!” Ratchet found his voice, the surprise of seeing Shockwave alive finally wearing off, “Optimus and Megatron have an agreement for the time being.”

Shockwave regarded Ratchet silently, clearly attempting to spot a lie.

“The war is on hold right now, Shockwave, sir.” Lightyear cautiously moved forward, his blaster locked on Shockwave’s head. “Something much worse has happened to us. We’re working together to solve it.” He moved to stand beside Ratchet, meeting the emotionless gaze that Shockwave cast at him.

“What has happened?”

“That’s…why we’re here…” Lightyear shifted his gaze to eye the cannon still pointed at Ratchet’s head, clearly wanting Shockwave to lower it.

There was a tense moment of silence as everyone waited for someone to make a move. Bumblebee gave another sluggish _whirr,_ shifting as he started to come back to himself. Ratchet quickly placed a servo on his back, keeping him still to avoid any nasty misunderstandings. Finally, after Lightyear not so subtly attempted to stand between the cannon and Ratchet, Shockwave powered down his weapon and took a step back so that the two Autobots could attempt to stand.

“You have not answered my question.”

Lightyear transformed his blaster back into his arm, stepping aside as Bumblebee shakily crawled off of Ratchet.

“It’s your slave coding. Airachnid has it. She kidnapped Soundwave, and Dreadwing, and Wheeljack.”

The antennas on Shockwave’s helm twitched upward slightly, the only indication that he was surprised.

“Airachnid was the one who broke into my laboratory during the war.”

“Yes.”

“And now she’s wreaking havoc on all of us.” Ratchet stood up, holding Bumblebee steady as the scout wavered on his pedes, holding his head. “We came to see if you still had any information about the code.” He glanced at Bulkhead, who was still standing with partially charged blasters. “Stand down, Bulkhead.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“That feeling is mutual.” Shockwave turned to look at the Wrecker. Bulkhead narrowed his optics, but begrudgingly put away his blasters when Ratchet cleared his throat pointedly.

“Sir,” Lightyear moved forward again to reclaim Shockwave’s attention, “please, this is life or death-”

The sound of running pede steps cut Lightyear off as all focus shifted to the lab’s entrance. Shadows flickered in the hallway, and suddenly Arcee was there, blasters out and at the ready, flanked by Smokescreen and Tripline. All optics locked on Shockwave, and Tripline stumbled over himself as he frantically jumped to attention.

“Shockwave, sir!”

“That’s impossible!” Arcee’s optics were wide, winglets up and held rigidly straight in alarm, “You’re dead!”

“My survival was improbable, but not impossible.” Shockwave answered, “The spacebridge provided reasonable protection from the explosion caused by the power core. When the bridge began to collapse, it expelled me back to my original location.”

Smokescreen looked at Ratchet, blasters still raised even as Arcee lowered hers. “You guys alright?”

“Bumblebee will have a headache for a day or two. But yes, we’re alright.”

Arcee opened her mouth to reply, only to pause as the sound of roaring engines echoed down the hall behind her. They all heard the rhythmic pattern of someone transforming before the new arrivals began to race down toward the lab. Smokescreen and Arcee quickly jumped aside as Megatron and Optimus charged into the room, blasters humming loudly.

“Lord Megatron.” Shockwave bowed his head, unbothered by the hostile appearance of his leader.

“Shockwave,” Megatron could not hold back the surprise in his voice, “How unexpected. I was told you had perished years ago.”

“Reports of my demise were vastly premature.” Shockwave looked up to meet his optics. “I have been informed that Airachnid is causing problems.”

“That is an understatement.” Megatron looked around the room, both he and Optimus attempting to take stock of the situation.

“We received your message, Bulkhead.” Optimus said, still holding himself ready for battle.

“Shockwave caught us off guard. Things got tense for a moment.” Bulkhead looked pointedly at Bumblebee, who was now standing on his own, but was still rubbing gingerly at his head. Optimus nodded once.

“We have very little time to explain the situation fully.” Megatron stepped closer to Shockwave. “Do you still have the slave coding?”

“I do not.”

The atmosphere in the lab instantly darkened. Optimus inhaled slowly, attempting to hide his disappointment. Smokescreen and Arcee exchanged sad, almost helpless looks, while Tripline and Lightyear visibly sagged, their visors dim. Ratchet put a servo on Bumblebee’s shoulder as he let out a soft, distressed binary keen. Bulkhead leaned back heavily against the wall, and Megatron closed his optics, desperately resisting the urge to flip a table in anger.

“However,” everyone perked up immediately. Megatron’s optics snapped open, training intently on Shockwave’s optic, “I am still in possession of its blueprints. The coding itself has been destroyed, as you requested.”

“If you kept the information, why not just keep the entire code?” Smokescreen asked slowly, hesitant to get his hopes up again.

“Once the code is created, any Cybertronian is capable of downloading and utilizing it. It had already been stolen from me once. Continuing to possess it in its active form was illogical. The blueprints require vast amounts of knowledge and experience in code manipulation in order to produce the desired effects. Logically, they were safer to preserve.”

“Never mind the logic.” Megatron almost snapped, “I am not interested in the code any more now than I was when you first offered it to me. You have already been told that Airachnid has put it to use. _Can you erase it?_ ”

Everyone waited with bated breath. Fields flickered with apprehension, and several of them leaned forward, as if worried they were going to miss Shockwave’s response.

Shockwave met Megatron’s optics with unwavering focus. When he spoke, his voice was firm.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also blame Shockwave, he's a pain in the aft.
> 
> So, I know I've mentioned this a few other times, but seriously, if any of you have a Tumblr, feel free to message me anytime! (I linked to it on an earlier chapter) Sometimes I need a few pokes to get writing, and my roommate is no longer here to beg for the next chapter, so my motivator is missing. 
> 
> Anyway, 'til the next update!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey less than two weeks wait this time! Getting better!
> 
> Soundwave was the difficult one this time. So fragging stubborn...

Shocked, numb silence filled the lab as everyone processed what Shockwave had said. The firm _No_ seemed to echo through the room, their heads, and their sparks; draining away any hope they had.

Bulkhead slumped against the wall, unable to stop the despair that filled his spark. For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, Megatron found his voice.

“What do you mean you can’t erase it!?” He roared, his field lashing out furiously and optics flashing, “You designed it!”

“Forgive me, Lord Megatron.” Shockwave held up his servo, as if to hold back Megatron’s rage, “I should have elaborated. I meant that I am incapable of erasing the code _at this time._ ”

Ratchet closed his optics as he pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. He was getting too old for spark stopping moments like this, “You designed a dangerous code, a _weapon_ , without also designing a way to get rid of it?”

“At the time of its construction, there was no need for a means of removal.”

“And what twisted logic led you to that conclusion?” Arcee snapped. “What if Megatron had gotten infect with it?”

“Impossible.” Shockwave looked past Megatron to address Arcee, “Lord Megatron was to be given the Master Code. Once one is formatted with that, the slave coding is unable to integrate into their system. It was programmed to prevent others from attempting to enslave Lord Megatron.”

“What if you had been infected?” Smokescreen asked.

“The code was created to allow Lord Megatron complete control of his army. Had he decided he wished to extend that control to me, I would have accepted it.”

“What a good soldier.” Arcee muttered darkly.

“Shockwave,” Optimus moved closer to Megatron, feeling the waves of disgust that rolled through his tightly controlled field, “We must know; can you find a way to remove the code from those that Airachnid has captured?”

“No code is without weakness.” Shockwave turned his attention to the Prime, “I will need time to recreate the code, and time to run tests.”

“How much time?” Megatron growled.

“The recreation should take no more than a solar cycle. Discovering a means of erasing it from a host will take longer.”

“I can help with that.” Ratchet spoke up, “I may not be an expert, but I know my way around a code.”

Shockwave turned to regard Ratchet once more, silently evaluating the medic. He nodded once, “The assistance would be appreciated.”

“I expect the code to be finished by the end of the solar cycle.” Megatron checked his chronometer, “It is 4:30am, earth time. You have nineteen and a half hours.”

“It will be completed.”

“See that it is.” Megatron turned away, his back rigidly straight, and lumbered toward the door. Optimus followed close behind him, and everyone fell in line to trail after them.

“Are you alright?” Optimus kept his voice low, his words meant only for Megatron.

“No.” Megatron said just a lowly, his voice curt. “Recreating that code is the last thing I wanted to do.”

“I know, Megatron,” Optimus allowed their fields to brush and mingle together, trying to share some reassurance with the tense warlord, “I do not like it any more than you do. But this is our best chance at finding a way to reverse what Airachnid has done.”

“I know.” Megatron cycled an almost silent sigh through his vents, his own field filling with weariness, “That does not mean I have to like it.”

Optimus gave a small nod of agreement, silent as Megatron contacted the ship to open a space bridge.

The portal opened in front of them within seconds, and both leaders stepped to one side to allow the others to pass. Bulkhead and Ratchet walked through with Bumblebee between them. The scout seemed to be functioning fine, but by the way the other two were subtly guiding him, Optimus was willing to guess that he was seeing double.

All of their fields contained the same emotion: cautious hope and varying degrees of mistrust. Arcee was certainly not shy about glaring at Shockwave’s back as she and Smokescreen followed him into the bridge.

Megatron and Optimus waited until their subordinates had passed before following them through. No words were spoken, as there was nothing more either of them wanted to say at the moment. There was nothing else for them to do but wait for Shockwave’s results.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Keeping busy was harder than Knock Out had thought it was going to be. The medical bay was spotless, and all his tools were organized. There were no injuries to take care of, no reports to fill out, and Starscream was insistent about staying on the bridge while Megatron was gone.

Which meant that Knock Out had to stay on the bridge, in case the Seeker hurt himself.

Which left Knock Out with nothing to do, in a room he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by busy foot soldiers and _humans._

Knock Out fought the urge to huff through his vents and crossed his arms over his chest. He sat on a stool he had dragged from the med bay, leaning against an unused monitor where he could keep an eye on the carefully pacing Starscream.

_Have they found anything on Cybertron?_

He was trying his hardest not to entertain that train of thought. Thinking of the search party led him to think about what they were searching for, and why. And that took him back to his nightmares, his dark fears and worries about the mech who was supposed to be safe on board with him, kissing him goodnight, rumbling a low ‘good morning’ in his audial, holding him close against a solid chassis whenever his dreams turned sour…

Knock Out shook his head sharply, hurriedly uncrossing his arms to free his chest as he sucked in a deep invent.

_Don’t think about it. Focus on something else._

There wasn’t much else to focus on.

Starscream was busy watching the Vehicons as they worked the monitors, Laserbeak cradled comfortably in the crook of one arm. The mines were being watched, the space bridge was manned, that small human child was running some scans on his MECH tracking map…

All Knock Out could do was wait for something to happen.

He must have drifted off at some point (not surprising really, he had hardly slept the past two nights) because the next thing he knew, he was jolting awake at the feeling of someone kicking his pede.

“My legs are beginning to ache.” Starscream said as soon as Knock Out’s optics had opened, “I need to sit down.”

“Watch the paint.” Knock Out groused, looking pointedly at the sharp tip of Starscream’s pede. He stood up none the less, standing close to help Starscream sit down if needed. The Seeker sat slowly, a low sigh of relief escaping him as the pressure was taken off of his legs. Laserbeak chirped softly, shifting out of his arm to cling across his chest, freeing up Starscream’s other servo.

They sat quietly for a moment; Knock Out leaned his hip against the edge of the monitor, watching as the smallest human hit a button on his screen before climbing down to join the others, who appeared to be making some kind of food substance. They all looked exhausted, but every suggestion of them going to sleep was met with stubborn denial. Starscream absentmindedly stroked down Laserbeak’s back, focused more on his legs to make sure they were not hurting any more than normal.

“When are you going to replace my t-cog?”

Knock Out looked at Starscream, quiet for a moment. Starscream had completed the one lap around the medical bay, and he was continuing to exercise his legs. Technically, replacing his t-cog would be no problem, so long as he did not try to use it just yet.

“You won’t be able to fly for some time, Starscream.” He said carefully, wanting to make sure that his patient understood that. “You still won’t be able to use your t-cog.”

“I don’t care.” Starscream turned to face him, “I have been without a t-cog for far too long. It was forcibly taken from me, and I want it back. Scrap if I can’t use it. I want to feel whole again.”

Laserbeak trilled, as if agreeing with Starscream.

Knock Out inhaled slowly. It was hard to argue with that. Replacing Starscream’s t-cog would be a small step in righting a terrible wrong inflicted by Silas.

“Alright.” Knock Out nodded once, “When they come back. When we don’t need to watch the ship anymore.”

Starscream nodded and turned his attention back to the rest of the room.

Laserbeak squirmed lightly in his arms, beginning to feel restless. Starscream stopped his petting and Laserbeak pushed off his chest, taking to the air to begin a slow and easy flight around the bridge.

“Soundwave must have really been terrified, to give Laserbeak to you.” Knock Out said, watching the minicon lazily circle the room.

“He was.” Starscream flashed back to the forest, to finding Soundwave, “After losing the others…I don’t think Soundwave could stand the thought of something happening to Laserbeak.”

“The others?”

Both mechs turned their heads to look at the humans. They had moved, walking across the monitors in order to stay awake. Now they were close enough to hear the conversation.

“Soundwave had more Laserbeaks?” Miko’s eyes were bright, instantly focused on the conversation. Fowler looked less the amused, muttering something about “flying tin cans” before June elbowed him in the ribs.

“No.” Starscream sounded impatient, “He did not have ‘more Laserbeaks’. He had a team of minicons; six of them. Laserbeak is the only one left.”

Fowler set a hand on Miko’s shoulder before she could ask her next question. It was obvious that she was curious about what had happened; they all were. But Fowler knew that this could turn into a very uncomfortable conversation very quickly.

“Casualties are a consequence of war.” Starscream knew exactly what she wanted to ask. “Laserbeak just happened to be the one to survive.”

“Who were the others?” Raf looked up at Laserbeak, “Did they all look like him?”

“Buzzsaw did.” Knock Out said, “But he was darker, with a little bit of purple.”

“Ratbat transformed to look similar, though he had his own, bipedal root mode. He was a Senator before he joined the Decepticons. Rumble and Frenzy had bipedal root modes as well. They transformed to connect to Soundwave as a means of relying information.”

“Ravage looked like an earth feline.”

“Soundwave had a cat?” Miko tilted her head.

“Ravage was _not_ a cybercat.” Starscream said sharply, “He was a _minicon._ ”

Jack opened his mouth to ask something, but the sound of Megatron’s voice, harsh and impatient, calling for a space bridge interrupted him.

Knock Out straightened up where he stood as a bridge was opened, watching as the others began to walk through.

Ratchet and Bulkhead came through first, Bumblebee still between them. He beeped reassuringly at Raf when he saw the worried expression on his face.

“Bumblebee will be just fine, Rafael.” Ratchet said, “He needs a check-up and some rest.”

“Did you find anything?” Jack looked behind them, trying not to get too concerned when he didn’t immediately see Arcee.

“Yep. We found something alright.” Miko looked up at Bulkhead, confused. The words sounded positive, but the tone…not so much.

Tripline and Lightyear came in next, both of them talking on their comms.

“Regroup with the others-

“-go to Kaon-”

“Call us when you’re ready for pick up.”

“Well?” Starscream snapped, “What did you find?”

They exchanged a look, “The solution.”

“And what _exactly_ is the solution?!”

Knock Out lightly touched Starscream’s arm, drawing his attention back to the portal, and the large, familiar form that was currently walking through it.

“ _Shockwave?!_ ” Starscream’s optics widened, his wings stiffening and shooting upright. Laserbeak squeaked, confused and surprised, and quickly returned to Starscream’s side, landing and clutching as his chest once more.

“We were just as shocked.” Arcee came through with Smokescreen, still watching Shockwave distrustfully.

“But you were in the space bridge when the power core exploded! How could you possibly have survived that!?”

“The explosion did not reach within the space bridge. I was merely wounded during the struggle that occurred while I was inside, and when I was expelled upon the bridges collapse.” Shockwave stepped aside so that Megatron and Optimus could exit the portal, taking in Starscream’s condition. “Do your injuries have any correlation with the current situation?”

Starscream clenched his jaw, “The beasts _you_ recoded were used to attempt to kill me, and Laserbeak.”

“Shockwave is aware of how his code is being used.” Megatron rumbled, the bridge closing behind him. “And he is here to find a solution to the problem.” He looked at Tripline, “I am leaving you in charge of ensuring the other search teams make it back, while I show Shockwave his new lab.”

“Yes sir.”

Megatron glanced at Shockwave, gesturing for him to follow before heading for the door.

Optimus stepped forward to address the rest of the group “It is late, and there is nothing more you can do at this time. Rest and refuel, I will keep you updated.”

“That goes for you too.” June set a hand on Jack and Miko’s shoulders, looking at Raf with a small smile, “The three of you need to sleep.”

“I want to stay with Bee…” Raf met her gaze before turning back to Bumblebee, clearly worried.

“Rafael can accompany Bumblebee to the medical bay,” Ratchet stepped forward, servo outstretched, “I will make sure he gets his rest.”

“Thank you,”

“I’m going with Bulkhead.” Miko walked to the edge of the monitor, hopping into Bulkhead’s own servo as soon as it was close enough for her to land on.

“No late night movies tonight, Miko.” Bulkhead held her up, “You really need to sleep.”

Jack looked at Arcee as Miko made a disappointed sound, easily noticing the worry she felt. “Are you going to bed anytime soon?”

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping, but I should try.” She gave a small smile, reaching out to pick him up.

“Is everything okay?” Jack settled on her shoulder, “You seem more concerned than relieved. Can’t Shockwave erase the code?”

“He can.” Arcee sighed, “The problem is…”

“He has to remake it first.” Smokescreen finished for her, “And none of us are looking forward to that.”

Bumblebee _whirred_ in agreement.

“I’m sure Megatron was _overjoyed_ by that news.” Starscream muttered darkly, setting a gentle servo on Laserbeak’s back as the minicon shivered.

“Come on.” Ratchet set his free servo on Bumblebee’s back, “We’re going to the medical bay. The rest of you get to sleep.” He looked at Optimus pointedly, “That goes for you too. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“That is the same advice I was going to give you, old friend.”

Ratchet only nodded before guiding Bumblebee out of the bridge. The others followed after them, heading for their rooms.

“You should be resting as well.” Optimus turned to June and Fowler, “Sleep is more important to your health than it is to ours, and you have pushed yourself quite far tonight.”

“This isn’t our first late night, Prime.” Fowler set his hands on his hips, “Working for the government tends to lead to a lot of lost sleep.”

“And I’ve had to stay awake for much longer than this.” June reassured.

“But this does not require either of you to remain awake.” Optimus offered a servo for them to step on to, “It would be best for you to sleep. We are not expecting results from Shockwave until the end of the day.”

“Meaning you expect the code to be finished by the end of the day.” Knock Out spoke up, his voice half as sharp as he intended it to be.

Optimus looked over at him, taking in the way he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, the deeply troubled look in his optics. A slow nod was given, “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Is recreating it really necessary?” June couldn’t help but ask as she stepped onto the outstretched servo.

“Shockwave needs to run tests on the coding itself, to test for weakness and ensure that it is responding to his counter measures. In order to do that, he needs the completed code, not just his notes on it.”

“Let’s hope no one else gets their hands on it this time…” Fowler moved to stand beside June, shifting to keep his balance as Optimus carefully lifted them up.

“No one here wants it.” Starscream stood up, tucking his crutch under his arm.

“And it will only be active long enough to find a way to erase it.” Optimus assured. “Megatron will be keeping a very close watch on it.”

Fowler and June nodded. Neither of them truly trusted Megatron, but they trusted Optimus. If he felt comfortable with this, then so did they.

“I’m sure.” Starscream looked at Knock Out, “I believe we are free to leave the ship in Prime’s servos.”

Knock Out gave a small nod, “Let’s get started then.”

They walked off the bridge together and made their way to the medical bay, both of them uneasy, and both of them trying to hide it.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Are you alright?”

If Wheeljack had been able to laugh, he would have. He found it very funny to have a question about his wellbeing come from a mech who looked and sounded like he’d been thrown into the Pits of Kaon without a weapon. As it were, he could barely manage a low grunt without his chassis feeling like it was trying to split apart. Not that that stopped him from pushing himself.

“Never fraggin’ better.” He rasped, turning his head to look at Dreadwing.

The larger mech was a mess of crushed and crumpled plating. Energon still oozed from several wounds, including those on his face and left side. Silas had kicked, stomped, and pounded his “punishment” into Dreadwing until the Seeker could do little more than curl into a ball and attempted to protect his weaker points. There were several cracks along his dorsal plating, and he moved very delicately, as if even shifting position caused him great pain. His face pate was dented and torn, and that didn’t even cover what the inside of his mouth probably looked like. Wheeljack could still see the chunks of broken dental plating on the floor where Dreadwing had spat them out. Silas had landed a very heavy blow against his jaw.

Wheeljack wasn’t sure who looked worse. The Insecticon had been careful to keep him functioning, but only just. His injured arm still hung awkwardly at the elbow, the joint twisted and warped. The stump where the torn off winglet had once sat still bled, and the remaining appendage was torn and bent until it was almost unrecognizable. His right ankle strut was broken (he was very familiar with that pain), and the deep wounds that had been clawed into his sides needed to be welded. Soon. He didn’t want to know what his face looked like. It couldn’t have been pretty; he was already down an optic. Nothing but static registered in the left.

Silas had told them that his engineers would be coming in to patch them up, but there was no telling when that would be.

“What about you?”

Dreadwing looked down at himself, wincing at the throbbing in his back. “I will survive.”

Wheeljack nodded once, instantly regretting the movement. There was nothing more he had to say, so he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his optics.

_I hope Bulkhead’s alright._

The thought jumped into his processor before he could try to steer it in a different direction.

Part of him wanted to open up the bond again, to feel Bulkhead’s presence in his spark, to let him know that he was alright.

But that was a lie. He wasn’t alright.

None of them were alright.

They were torn up, beaten to the Pit, and being held Primus knew where. Forcibly recoded (he could still feel the sensation of that _virus_ incorporating itself into his system, and if that wasn’t nightmare inducing, he didn’t know what was), being starved into compliance, punished by fist or internal system for disobedience, and only partially valuable (and were they really valuable, if all she _really_ wanted were trophies?) to one of the two people who controlled their continued survival…no. They were most definitely _not_ alright.

And exposing Bulkhead to what he was feeling would be cruel. There was nothing he could do to help them at the moment. No point in torturing him with the gory details.

“Is your ankle causing you much pain?”

Wheeljack opened his optics again at the sound of Dreadwing’s roughened voice.

“Nah. Elbow’s worse. Nothin’ I haven’t felt before.” Wheeljack, copying Dreadwing’s earlier action, looked down at himself. His attention shifted from his own body to Soundwave’s, optics once more roaming over the carvings cut into the mech’s body. “Looks like the three of us won’t be winnin’ any beauty contests any time soon.”

Soundwave did not seem to react. He continued to face forward, his visible optic trained on the few Insecticons who were still inside. Most of them had dispersed at around 5:30am, but a few had decided to take a few extra hours of sleep.

Wheeljack couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he could tell that whatever was going through Soundwave’s head was important. It was still odd for him to be able to see the spy’s face, to see the, admittedly small, expressions that passed over it, but he did try to take advantage of it.

Jaw clenched; frustration. Optic ridges just slightly furrowed over optics that were incredibly focused; intent. Wheeljack shifted his arm to “accidently” brush it against Soundwave’s arm. The harsh brush of their fields where their plating made contact almost had Wheeljack jumping.

Anger. Hot, intense anger.

_At least we can all agree on that._ Wheeljack knew he was never going to get Soundwave to tell them what he was thinking. That had not changed at all since their capture. Soundwave was still the most secretive mech he’d ever met. But he didn’t need the spy to talk to him to understand the emotions.

Soundwave was determined again. Soundwave wanted to fight. Soundwave wanted _out._

_Good. We need him._

Wheeljack faced forward again, closing his optics so that he didn’t have to look at the bug that had thrown him around like a play thing.

“I don’t know about you two, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how ‘Screamer felt.”

Dreadwing’s hum of agreement from his left was almost missed when Soundwave suddenly turned to face him. Wheeljack couldn’t help but jump (and _Primus_ did that hurt) at the sudden, purposeful field contact that Soundwave initiated, pulsing with question and a small amount of worry.

_What happened to Starscream?_

“I’m sure you do, Wheeljack.” Airachnid’s voice cut through the room before Wheeljack could open his mouth to speak. All three mechs turned immediately to look at her, and if she hadn’t been so angry about the state they were in, Airachnid might have grinned at the amount of hate that showed in two pairs of optics.

She paused, however, when she saw the look in Soundwave’s.

Wheeljack saw something flash in her optics, but could not put a name to what he saw. Whatever it was, it was aimed at Soundwave, and despite what he felt toward Megatron’s most valued officer, he almost felt worried for the mech sitting next to him.

But whatever the emotion, it was there and gone in an instant, and Airachnid was moving again, striding forward to examine Dreadwing and Wheeljack.

“Silence.” Airachnid’s voice, sharp as a blade, cut Wheeljack off before he could begin what they were all sure was going to a venomous statement. His voice box shut down immediately, leaving him speechless. Airachnid turned her gaze to Dreadwing, “You too. I am in no mood to entertain you.”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, but did not attempt to fight the command. He could feel the strange clicks as his own voice box disengaged.

Wheeljack hissed and jerked away when Airachnid moved to tilt his head, inspecting the damage to his left optic. Dreadwing did not react as openly, but he did stiffen when small digits brushed over his dented and leaking cheek.

“Sit still.” She scolded both of them so that she could continue her examination. The room was silent as she looked them over, making note of every injury.

“You both need to be repaired.”

_No slag._ Wheeljack wished so badly that he could speak, but his voice box clicked uselessly when he attempted to use it.

“Go to the store room. Silas’ engineers are waiting for you.” Airachnid stepped back as Dreadwing and Wheeljack were forced to their pedes. They attempted to resist the command, just to spite her, but their injuries were too great. The extra pain they received for trying to be disobedient quickly stopped them.

Airachnid did not turn to watch as they walked past her. She did not check to see if they were doing as they were told. The sounds of whining joints and heavy, stuttering steps told her all she needed to know.

And then it was just her and Soundwave.

And Starscream, who appeared on Soundwave’s left side with a bored expression. Soundwave resisted the urge to glance at his hallucination, instead focusing on Airachnid as she moved to stand over his legs, straddling his thighs so she could be closer. Pointed digits tapped lightly over her hips as her servos came to rest there. Her optics looked deep into his, ensuring that she had his full attention. Soundwave could tell that she didn’t like what she saw.

“What is she going to say to break you this time?” Starscream did not even glance at Airachnid. Out of the corner of his optic, Soundwave could see that the piece of artist’s metal was back in the Seekers digits, more warped and carved than the last time it had appeared.

“I ordered Starscream to be killed.”

“That’s a new one.”

“I found him in the _Harbinger,_ attempting to call Megatron for help.”

Soundwave, at first merely surprised that Airachnid had mentioned Starscream, could not help the sudden feeling of worry that settled in his spark.

“Every Decepticon on Earth knows that the _Harbinger_ would provide a safe place to hide. That statement is too obvious to mean anything.” Starscream spoke over the fear, lazily crossing his ankles. “She’s just trying to scare you.”

“I assume you gave him Laserbeak so that Megatron would believe his story?” Airachnid continued, and Soundwave felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

_She could not have known about Laserbeak._

This time Starscream paused. He glanced up from his sculpting to watch the exchange, silent.

“That was very clever, Soundwave. Too bad though. I can’t _imagine_ how it must have felt for Laserbeak, for him to think he had avoided my Insecticons, only to be torn apart by one in the end.”

“She’s lying, Soundwave.”

“He probably didn’t last long.” Soundwave couldn’t pull his attention away from Airachnid, “He looked pretty torn up already when I gave the order.” Airachnid lowered herself to kneel over Soundwave’s hips. She leaned close, never looking away from his optics. “I didn’t get to see it. Starscream ran through a bridge as soon as the Insecticon jumped at him. But I heard his yell when it bit his wing on the way through.”

_No…_

“She didn’t see anything. She’s guessing. She is saying whatever she can to hurt you!”

“I bet Starscream didn’t make it two steps out of that bridge. He didn’t have a t-cog, you know. No way to fly out of danger.” Airachnid stroked down the side of Soundwave’s face, her voice lowering to mock sympathy. Her optics bore into his, as if she were attempting to see into his very soul. “If only you hadn’t told him anything. He wouldn’t have been a problem then.”

_You couldn’t fly…you couldn’t fly and I gave you Laserbeak…You couldn’t even defend yourself…_

“She’s _lying!_ ”

Airachnid’s smirk grew into a grin.

“Laserbeak couldn’t fly either, could he? Poor thing, his wings were torn to ribbons.” Airachnid suddenly moved closer, her voice a toxic whisper in Soundwave’s audial. “I bet he screamed. I bet he screamed for you, tried to reach out to you. Just like Ratbat. Just like Frenzy.”

Soundwave felt the tight grip on his servo as Starscream reached for him.

“Don’t listen to her!”

But Soundwave couldn’t help the way his mind jumped back to the war, to the screaming in his head. He couldn’t help the flashes of memory that jumped to the front of his mind; the building as it collapsed, and energon that turned green as it foamed and dripped from a mouth that pleaded for help.

_What if she isn’t lying?_

He had already felt the spark wrenching pain of a bond shattering over, and over, and over…he couldn’t do it again.

“You know that she is.”

Airachnid stood up, happily watching the conflict that was building in Soundwave’s optic. She didn’t stay long, as she wanted to get back to her other captives, to ensure that they were being mended properly.

When she reached the door, Airachnid paused. Digits tapped against the wall for just a moment before she turned her head to look at the remaining members of the Hive. They shifted, all attention on her, but it was obvious that she was only interested in one of them.

The one with metal chips still stuck in the joints around his claws. The one with dried energon around his mouth.

Her gaze was hard to read. It was not displeased, per say, but it still made them nervous. The Insecticon cowered slightly, lowering himself to the floor with a soft sound that was almost a whine and dropping his gaze.

Airachnid watched him for a moment more, then disappeared through the door.

Soundwave curled his digits around Starscream’s servo and held on tight.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“How is the project coming along?” It was almost noon when Silas stepped into the work area to check in with his men.

“Progress has been a little slow this morning, sir.” A soldier looked up from his computer, “Airachnid took most of our engineers to repair the two newest captives.”

“I see.” Silas glanced around the room, easily noticing the lack of people. He wondered briefly how Airachnid had reacted to seeing the state of her slaves. “I was planning on doing that this after your lunch hour. How close are we?”

“We still need a few more parts. And we’ll need access to the satellites once we finish construction.”

“That won’t be a problem. Once Soundwave had recovered enough to go out into the field again, we will easily have access to whatever we need. Do you know where to find the missing parts?”

“I’m looking it up right now.”

“Let me know when you find out.” Silas turned back to the door. “I need to make sure our spy has fueled.”

“Yes sir.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Soundwave had calmed down relatively easily. Once the memories had stopped flooding through his head, the doubts in Airachnid’s stories surfaced quickly, helped along by Starscream.

Airachnid had admitted to not fully witnessing the attack, which already left room for doubt. Wheeljack and Dreadwing had been silenced immediately, suggesting that she was worried about them telling Soundwave the truth.

Soundwave knew that it was rational to conclude that she was lying.

And he hated the fact that he was still scared.

“You care about him.” Starscream squeezed Soundwave’s servo. “You’re worried about his wellbeing. That’s why you can’t stop worrying. Just like how you couldn’t stop searching for Megatron’s signal when he travelled to the core of this planet.”

Soundwave didn’t answer, but it was obvious that he agreed with Starscream’s observations. They sat in silence for a while before Starscream spoke again.

“There is a way to know for certain.”

The way Soundwave stiffened was all the answer Starscream needed.

“Soundwave,” The Seeker shifted, moving to straddle Soundwave’s thighs. He reached up and set one servo over Soundwave’s chest. Soundwave suppressed a shiver when a lone claw tapped over his spark chamber. “Opening your bond with him will tell you everything you want to know.”

Soundwave made no move to follow the suggestion.

“You already believe she is lying. This is just a way to put your worries to rest.” Starscream leaned in a little closer, trying to stress that this was a good plan, “Laserbeak will be fine. He will probably feel better knowing that you’re alive.”

_He will feel everything I am feeling. The pain, the exhaustion, the hunger. It will panic him._

Starscream tapped his claw impatiently, “This is the only way to know for certain.”

A single purple optic narrowed slightly, clearly disagreeing.

“What are you afraid of?” Starscream braced a servo on the wall by Soundwave’s head, “Why are you hesitating?”

_I won’t do that to him._

“Be rational here-”

_I cannot go through that pain again!_ Starscream blinked at Soundwave’s sudden interruption, his expression quickly turning into one of surprise. Soundwave held his gaze for a moment longer before looking down, unable to continue meeting his optics.

_He is my last companion. If I open the bond, and discover that Airachnid is telling the truth…if I feel nothing but emptiness for the sixth time…_

Soundwave drifted off, and silence stretched between them once more. Starscream tapped his digits in a quick rhythm over Soundwave’s chest, watching his face as he thought. He huffed once.

“Then you had better hope Silas sends you on another mission before your cable snaps. If it gives before you get away, they will repair you. All of you. And Megatron will never get another chance to overpower you. Airachnid will make sure of that.”

Soundwave lifted his head to look into Starscream’s optics, blinking once before shifting to look down at his injured knee, and the torn cable hidden beneath his plating.

_I know._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“You’re hovering.”

Optimus blinked, looking up from the tools he was attempting to sort.

“Am I?”

Ratchet tapped his digits along the side of the datapad he was holding. He was taking stock of their supplies, being as quiet as he could. Starscream was still asleep, though Knock Out had finished his surgery and interrupted stasis hours ago. Normally it would have concerned Ratchet, but considering Starscream’s injuries and nights of fitful sleep, he was just happy to see the Seeker get some real rest.

“You’ve been staring at that drawer for five minutes, Optimus. I know you want answers, we all do, but you aren’t going to get them from a laser scalpel.”

Optimus sighed softly, carefully pushing the drawer closed again. “I feel as if I am hovering wherever I go, at the moment.”

“We have a lot more people than we are used to having.” Ratchet turned to fully face his friend, “You don’t have to do everything yourself anymore.”

“Nor do you.” Optimus said with a small smile, “Though that does not stop you from trying.”

Ratchet scoffed as though offended, but did not attempt to argue.

“There is something I wished to talk to you about.” Optimus moved closer, his voice lowering, “We have kept our relics hidden, but if…” Optimus paused for a moment, “ _when_ the time comes to face Airachnid and Silas, they could prove to be useful in our fight.”

“But in order to use them, we would have to tell Megatron that we have them.” Ratchet matched Optimus’ volume, “And I’m not sure I trust him enough for that. The Spark Extractor alone would be devastating should he attempt to use it against us.”

Optimus lightly touched the subspace compartment in his chassis, where the Spark Extractor still sat. “I know. But it could prove just as devastating to Airachnid and her Insecticons.”

Ratchet sat his datapad down on a nearby table, scratching at his chin lightly as he thought. “You know Megatron better than I do, Optimus. This is a judgement call you have to make.”

“I would highly value your opinion on the matter.”

Starscream shifted on the berth behind them, causing both of them to pause and Ratchet to look over quickly in case something was wrong. After a second a shifting and tired murmurs, the Seeker resettled and was quiet once more.

“Megatron has the Forge of Solus Prime in his possession.” Ratchet said quietly, turning back to Optimus, “While that is not a secret, he has made no move to offer its use to you. In my opinion, you should wait until he brings the topic up. We have already given in and moved onto the _Nemesis._ For safety reasons which I agreed with.” He added quickly, to assure Optimus that he still believed it was the right course of action, “On this, you should wait until he makes the first move.”

Optimus nodded slowly, “Your opinion is noted. Thank you, Ratchet.”

Ratchet reached out to touch Optimus’ arm, holding it firmly, “I trust you, Optimus. We all do. Whatever you decide, we’re right behind you.”

A small smile graced the Prime’s lips, “Thank you, old friend.”

The sound of the door sliding opened pulled their attention away from each other once again.

“Doctor,” Shockwave’s deep monotone carried easily in the quiet room, “if I may request your presence.”

Optimus stepped to one side so that Ratchet could face the new arrival. Shockwave stood in the doorway, his single optic focused on the medic.

“I assume you’ve finished reconstructing your code?”

“Your assumption is correct. I would like to begin working on a means of purging it from an infected system before informing Lord Megatron. You offered to assist me with the task.”

“Of course.” Ratchet looked up at Optimus once more, “You should find Megatron. No one’s seen him since he left the bridge this afternoon.”

Optimus nodded, and Ratchet moved to follow Shockwave back to his lab.

They travelled in silence. Shockwave was not one for small talk, and even if Ratchet _had_ been keen on talking, there was nothing he wanted to say to this particular Cybertronian. Thought he was sure Bumblebee would probably have a few choice words, if the opportunity ever came to him…

The door to the lab slide open for them smoothly, and Shockwave immediately went to the monitors. Ratchet followed close behind him, optics scanning over the lines of coding that were scrolling across the screen.

“When the code is uploaded into our systems, it is compressed and packaged to appear small and benign.” Shockwave picked up a datapad and handed it to Ratchet. “I have not yet compressed this version, to allow for easier reading.”

Ratchet hummed noncommittally as he accepted the offered device. A quick glance told him that Shockwave had just handed over all of his original notes, and he immediately began to read through the details.

Shockwave waited patiently. It struck Ratchet as odd, and more than a little unsettling, that the Decepticon scientist seemed intent on watching him as he read, but he forced himself to ignore it. Shockwave most likely had nothing else to do until Ratchet was able to help him with the code, and saw no reason to make himself busy while Ratchet brought himself up to speed.

Still, it was almost as if Shockwave was…waiting for something.

It wasn’t until Ratchet reached the end of the notes that he understood. His optics widened. Slowly, he looked up at Shockwave, field tightly controlled.

“Are you certain there is no other way?”

“You have the same information I do. Do you see another option?”

Ratchet inhaled, slow and deep. “Optimus and Megatron are not going to be happy about this…”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Optimus found Megatron in one of the _Nemesis’_ training rooms, slicing through wave after wave of holographic opponents. He stood quietly at the entrance, observing. Megatron had always been captivating to watch; and for the first time in centuries, Optimus found himself in a position to do so.

Megatron’s movements were filled with power that was controlled with almost unbelievable ease. Every strike was precise, every shift fluid. He struck hard, he struck fast, but every blow was filled with intent.

Optimus watched silently until the simulation timed out. He took in every flex of armor down that strong back, every roll of those broad shoulders, every shift and adjustment of sturdy hips and powerful legs.

He also took in the distant, harsh look in Megatron’s optics. Sharp denta flashed as they were bared more than normal, and Optimus could see the quick movements as Megatron clenched and unclenched his fists between blows. Optimus was familiar with those markers.

The simulator beeped to declare that it was finished, and any remaining holograms faded away, leaving Megatron alone in the middle of the floor. He stood still for a minute, just staring at the wall as his fans cycled hot air out of his system. Finally he turned to look at Optimus, his sword still extended, and Optimus had to fight back the instinct to drop into a defensive position. They were no longer enemies, there was no need for that.

Megatron shifted, his sword coming up as if preparing for battle, but his optics were more focused now, and the harsh light in them had softened somewhat.

“Spar with me.”

Optimus blinked once, mildly unprepared. They had not sparred in millennia.

Despite his hesitation, Optimus moved forward easily enough, his battle mask sliding into place and one sword extending from his right arm. He took his stance, Megatron adjusted, and they began.

There was no need to size each other up; countless centuries of battle left little to be surprised by. They knew each other better than anyone could ever hope to.

Together they moved across the practice floor, matching each other step for step, blow for blow. Every attack was almost perfectly countered. When Megatron adjusted his body, Optimus did too; mirroring him to better deflect the next move. They settled into a rhythm, not bothering to keep score or watch the time, flowing together in perfect harmony until it felt as if they were almost dancing.

Fields expanded and eagerly wove together; feelings of frustration, hope, loss, conflict, were all shared between them.

Several times they found themselves face to face, with nothing holding them apart but their blades as they each pushed against the other. The heat from their bodies could be felt, and Optimus was more than aware that both of their cooling fans were running on high. At some point, their optics met, and something hot flashed across their fields; an emotion that had both of them jumping back hastily, unsure whose field it had come from.

They continued quickly, if only to avoid talking about what they had felt.

Optimus made the mistake to end the match. He over corrected his footing and threw off his center of balance. Megatron was quick to use it against him. The Prime found himself pinned back against a wall, the sharp tip of Megatron’s blade pressed to his throat.

For one brief moment, Optimus felt a flicker of doubt. It would be all too easy for Megatron to end him. One quick move, one sharp jab, and it would be over. If he had been wrong, if Megatron hadn’t actually changed…

But Megatron gave a small smirk, and with a click and soft _whoosh_ the heavy blade retracted back into its housing.

“I will allow you to blame your injury, if your pride is feeling wounded.”

Optimus blinked, momentarily confused, before he caught on. “The injury to my ankle has been healed for some time now. It would have had no effect on this match.”

Megatron chuckled lowly, clearly expecting Optimus to have responded in such a manner. Optimus retracted his own blade, and the mask over his face. For a moment neither of them moved. Their bodies were not quite touching, but they could feel the heat that radiated off of each other. Both of their optics were bright, their lines singing with excess charge from the mock battle. They were so close…it would be so easy for them to shift and press closer…

Then Megatron stepped back to allow Optimus to step away from the wall, who quickly tamped down the feeling of disappointment at the lack of proximity.

There was no time for such inappropriate thoughts.

“What is it?” The question caught Optimus off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You came here to talk, I could see that in your optics when I saw you in the doorway. What is it?”

Optimus had nearly forgotten about his original intention for seeking him out. “I wished to speak to you about Shockwave, and your frustration toward him.”

Megatron inhaled deeply, “No.”

“No?” Optimus blinked.

“No, I do not blame him for this. That is what you are concerned about, is it not?”

Optimus blinked again, clearly not expecting Megatron to be as blunt about it as he was.

Megatron shook his head slightly, “Shockwave made the code eons ago, to assist in a war that I started. I did not punish him then for it. It would be foolish to punish him now, for actions that were out of his control. None of us knew how Airachnid was going to use it. We did not even know she had it.”

“I must admit, I was not expecting this conversation to be so simple.”

Amusement shimmered quickly through Megatron’s field, though he did not respond.

“You will be pleased to know that Shockwave finished the reconstruction shortly before I came to find you. He and Ratchet are working on removal methods as we speak.”

“Good, the sooner we have one, the better.”

Optimus nodded in agreement, watching Megatron thoughtfully. Megatron returned the look, one optic ridge raised as he waited for him to speak.

“There is another topic we should discuss…” Optimus thought it was worth the risk. Megatron hadn’t killed him just now when he was vulnerable. And his field had held nothing but honesty when he spoke of Shockwave. Perhaps they didn’t have to wait before they discussed the collected relics.

Unfortunately, the chance to have that conversation was lost when the ships intercom popped to life.

“Optimus,” Ratchet’s voice, clipped and overly professional, “You and Megatron are needed in Shockwave’s lab. Now.”

The two leaders exchanged a glance.

“How much do we want to hide from our collective troops?” Megatron asked, already knowing the answer. Optimus merely touched his comm, sending out a message to the rest of his Autobots.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Knock Out and Starscream were already there by the time Optimus and Megatron arrived. Bulkhead and Arcee were next, with Smokescreen and Bumblebee rushing in last. All of them waited, fields flickering nervously at the much too professional look on Ratchet’s face.

“What is it?” Megatron looked between Shockwave and Ratchet.

“We have a problem.” Ratchet’s voice was too tightly controlled.

“Are you planning on telling us what the problem is?” Starscream asked, clearly not interested in waiting.

“Methods of removal must be tested on an active strain of the slave coding.” Shockwave drew their attention quickly, “The code is not in a truly active state until it has been uploaded into a living neural net.”

Knock Out immediately stiffened, and Ratchet’s jaw clenched so tightly Optimus was concerned he was going to crack his denta. The room went deathly quiet as everyone processed what Shockwave had said.

::Are you saying that…in order to try to remove the code, you have to…?:: Bumblebee trailed off, unable to finished his sentence. His door wings slowly flattened to his back.

“We have to upload it into someone,” Ratchet spoke slowly, clearly trying to contain his emotions, “yes.”

Bulkhead swallowed. Megatron, who had gone completely silent, moved away from the group to stand in front of the computers.

“You can’t just…program it into a machine?” Smokescreen asked.

“The code forces obedience. We will know if our removal has been successful when the one infected with the code is able to refuse an order.” Shockwave said, “Non sentient machinery is not obedient, as it does only what it was built to do, and therefore cannot choose disobedience if the code is removed. I can run simulations, but the only true test it to attempt to erase the code from one who already has it.”

“But we have had no luck in finding Wheeljack and the others.” Ratchet added, “And we really can’t wait until we find them to start working on this.”

“So you need a volunteer.” Arcee finished softly, crossing her arms over her chest. Ratchet looked away. They didn’t need him to answer.

“I will do it.” Optimus said into the silence, voice quiet but determined, “I will act as your test subject.”

“Absolutely not!” Ratchet yelled, immediately looking back up to glare down his leader. His voice, loud as it was, was almost drowned out by the yelps of denial from the rest of the team.

“I will not allow any of you to bear this burden.” Optimus spoke over them, his voice firm. He placed a gentle servo on Ratchet’s shoulder, his voice softening. “I have every faith in you, old friend. You will find a way to remove it.”

“I can’t let you do this!”

“Neither can I.”

Everyone turned to look at Megatron, caught off guard by the almost eerie calm in his tone. He was staring at the monitor, watching the script of the code scroll across the screen.

“This was built to help win a war I started. It exists because of me.” Megatron turned to the group, his face set determinedly.

“Upload it into me.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay...again... At least it wasn't a full months wait this time.
> 
> This chapter was frustrating for me. Optimus and Megatron are little shits.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy guys!

“Megatron,” Optimus’ optics widened slightly in surprise. Off to his left, he could see the unrestrained shock that bloomed across Knock Out and Starscream’s faces as both of them stared at their leader, “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Megatron looked deep into his optics, firmly holding his gaze.

“Hold on,” Arcee stepped forward, “Are you sure there’s no other way to fix this?”

“The code has to be active to be tested.” Ratchet said, his jaw clenching tightly again.

“I understand that. But why can’t we wait until we get the others back? I don’t see why we have to infect someone _right now._ ”

An expression of raw anger flashed over Ratchet’s face, there and gone in an instant, before he very coolly replied, “Ask Shockwave.”

All optics once again turned to Shockwave, who seemed completely unaffected by the tense atmosphere in the lab.

“The code that Airachnid’s prisoners now possess causes varying amounts of discomfort or pain when orders are disobeyed.” Shockwave said simply, “Once captured and removed from their recognized Master, the code will continue to affect them until their orders are carried out, or withdrawn.”

“You mean,” Bulkhead’s voice was filled with numb disbelief, “Whenever they try to fight back, the code hurts them?”

“Correct.”

Megatron curled his servos tightly, his field beginning to swirl with rage and hatred. He closed his optics for a moment, seemingly attempting to control himself.

Smokescreen and Bumblebee each reached out a comforting servo, touching Bulkhead’s arms lightly. Bulkhead was silent, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. By the look on his face, it was clear he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cry or break everything in the room.

“How badly?” Knock Out’s voice was soft, and his optics were aimed at the floor. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his face expressionless.

“The damage can be severe, if the subject continuously refuses to comply with the given orders.”

Knock Out closed his optics and tried not to imagine the state Dreadwing was in at the moment. Bulkhead minutely shuddered, his servos clenching into fists at his sides.

“They will most likely be in pain when we rescue them,” Ratchet said, his voice softer now, “I hate that I have to agree with this, but giving the code to someone _now,_ in a controlled environment, so that we may find a way to remove it before finding the others, is the best option we have.”

“Agreed.” Megatron opened his optics again, turning his attention to Shockwave, “Upload it into me, then get to work.”

Shockwave did not respond for a few tension filled seconds. Though his field was held too closely to read, the way his antenna stiffly lowered betrayed the fact that he did not like the turn this had taken. However, when he spoke, his voice was level, and he did not attempt to argue.

“You will need to choose another to hold the Master Code.”

“ _What?”_

The lab, filled as it was with clashing, distressed fields, seemed to ripple with shock and confusion.

“The slave coding responds only to the Master Code.” Shockwave stated simply, “That is what we must test it against. Someone will need to agree to carry it.”

Silence. Dead, frozen silence.

Megatron’s optics flashed once. Optimus could tell that his mind was racing as he began to sort through his choices and the possible consequences they could have.

“You should take some time to consider this.” Ratchet’s voice was almost soft when he spoke.

Megatron looked at him briefly, but did not immediately respond. His gaze flicked to Knock Out, who was still staring at the ground, to Bulkhead, whose face was twisted in grief, and finally to Starscream and Laserbeak. The latter was trembling, but silent, obviously distressed by the news. The former was watching him carefully, his head tilted forward just slightly as he regarded his leader.

“Megatron,” Optimus called gently, “Ratchet is right.”

Again, Megatron did not answer; but Optimus could see the moment he made his decision. Shoulders shifted as he pulled himself to his full height, and when he answered, his voice was sure.

“I do not need time.” Megatron turned to him, and Optimus could not fight the gentle wave of nostalgic awe that washed over the small part of his spark that was still Orion.

Red optics burned with the same flare that had once drawn an archivist into the arms of a gladiator. Determination, the will to do what was believed to be best, an edge of fear that seemed only to strengthen the already fierce resolve; all the things that Orion Pax had seen in Megatronus, and had been intrigued by, shone bright in those optics.

Optimus knew exactly what he was going to ask before the words could leave his lips.

“Are you certain?” He could not help the question as it rose once more in his mind.

Megatron nodded once, “I am.”

That was all he had to say. Optimus would understand, or he wouldn’t.

And, as they stared into each other’s optics, it became clear that Optimus _did_ understand. He understood _everything._ Blue optics, normally so easily guarded, so hard to read by those around him, were laid open like a well-read book to Megatron. Shock still shone in them, but now there was a soft sadness. Not the kind that came with pity, but the kind that came when one wished desperately to offer comfort. Optimus knew exactly what Megatron was thinking, and it showed.

There was a moment of hesitation as Optimus considered the mech before him. He knew what Megatron was offering, and he knew how hard it was for Megatron to do what he was doing. It amazed him that Megatron was willing to take this path.

But Optimus didn’t want the power that was being offered to him, even willingly. The idea of it made his tanks churn uneasily. But someone had to do it, someone had to complete the set so that Shockwave and Ratchet could begin working on removing the code. And if he didn’t do it…

He nodded once, never breaking optic contact with Megatron, “I accept.”

No one spoke at first. Knock Out and Starscream shifted, glancing at each other. Laserbeak pressed tighter against Starscream’s chest, confused and worried about the situation.

“This is the only way?” Smokescreen asked quietly, his doorwings hanging low on his back.

“It’s the best option.” Ratchet said, his voice just as soft.

::Are you sure you want to do this?:: Bumblebee looked up at Optimus, his optics filled with concern for his leader.

“I am.” Optimus looked down at his scout, “It must be done.”

“I don’t want to see this…” Bulkhead murmured almost to himself. He turned to the door, walking out as quietly as he could.

“He needs someone to talk to…” Arcee looked up, “Good luck, Optimus.” She placed a gentle servo on his arm for a moment, then followed Bulkhead out of the room. Smokescreen exchanged a glance with Bumblebee before shaking his head slightly.

“Sorry, this is just…too strange.” He looked at Optimus, “Sorry, sir,” then left, trying to keep his pace even.

Bumblebee did not move for a moment, his optics fixing on the computer and the code that would soon be put into Megatron. There was something in his optics, some strange emotion that Optimus did not have a name for, though it worried him slightly. It passed quickly, however, and Bumblebee gave a soft, apologetic sound before disappearing after the others.

“The programs are ready for use.” Shockwave spoke up as the door slid shut behind the scout.

“Then let’s not drag this out.” Megatron turned, following Shockwave to one of the monitors.

Ratchet stepped forward, setting one servo on Optimus’ back to guide him next to Megatron. Optimus pretended not to notice the way it shook against his plating. He knew how much Ratchet hated this. The feeling flooded the medic’s field; disgust, helplessness, fear. All Optimus could do was fill his own field with as much comfort as he could, but that wasn’t enough to mask the edge of uncertainty he still felt. Ratchet looked up at him, meeting his optics, and he knew what his friend wanted to say.

_You don’t have to do this._

But Ratchet didn’t say it. He knew what Optimus’ response would be.

Shockwave picked up two cables, and both mechs bowed their heads, shifting their plating to expose the medical access ports on their necks. With Ratchet watching closely to ensure there was no funny business, Shockwave made the connection.

The sound of the lab door sliding open was almost ignored, but Megatron glanced up just in time to see Knock Out walking out without a word, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. Starscream was right behind him, though he took a moment to glance back at the waiting mechs before the door shut again.

“Initiating transfer.” Shockwave announced. There was a soft beep as a button was pressed.

The download registered almost immediately. Optimus shifted minutely, the movement barely noticeable, and focused on the pop ups his HUD began to spit at him. A warning of a foreign code came first, quickly followed by a note that told him it contained no threats. The final notice told him that the new line of coding did not appear to fit into any of his existing codes, and that it was being saved as a separate line to be used at his leisure.

Optimus’ optic ridges furrowed just slightly.

Beside him, Megatron had gone rigid, his optics staring straight ahead with a little too much intensity. His digits twitched as he resisted the urge to curl them into fist, and Optimus did not miss the quick, sharp inhale through his vents.

It took less than a minute before Shockwave stepped away from the computer and declared that the transfer had been a success, but to the mechs attached to the cables, it felt like an eternity.

“He will need a sample of your voice to imprint on,” Shockwave told Optimus as he disconnected the cable, “An order of some kind would be the most useful. It will allow us to verify that the code has integrated properly into his system.”

Optimus looked at Megatron. The warlord was already looking in his direction, waiting for him to speak. Optimus hesitated. What did he say? What did he ask? He had to give an order, but he did not want to force Megatron into doing something he wouldn’t normally do.

_Ask him to kneel._

But the thought of Megatron being forced to kneel before him made Optimus feel sick. Asking a question, and ordering Megatron to tell the truth was an option, but he felt like that would be taking advantage of the situation. He did not want to take away Megatron’s own will. He needed something that would prove that Megatron was indeed under the influence of the code, but that would still allow Megatron some sort of choice.

An idea came to mind; simple, but effective.

Optimus met Megatron’s optics and gave his first order, “Lie to me.”

Megatron’s mouth twitched into something that was not quite a smirk, but not quite a smile. Optimus could see the way he turned the order over, examining the options he had carefully before responding. It didn’t take long for Megatron to settle on a lie. Without turning away, without flinching, he answered.

“I hate you.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Please tell me you’ve found something.”

Raf looked over his shoulder as Jack and Miko pulled themselves over the edge of the console he was working on. The monitor in front of him continued to scan over the maps and charts that had been constructed by the search team.

“Nothing…MECH’s practically turned into a ghost at this point…” Raf turned his attention back to the computer, one hand coming up to fix his glasses.

“Something big is happening,” Miko moved to stand beside him, “Bulk looks even more worried, and that’s saying something.”

“I know,” Raf’s voice was soft, “Bee didn’t say a word to me when he walked by…”

“I’m not even sure Arcee saw me.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, “I thought Ratchet sounded tense when he called for Optimus, but was it really that bad?”

“It must have been.” Raf stepped on a button, watching the screen for a moment before sighing heavily.

“So why exactly can’t you find these guys?” Miko let her eyes drift over the information in front of her, “It’s not like hiding Insecticons is easy.”

“It’s a little more complicated than playing “Where’s Waldo”, Miko.” Raf ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying not to get upset by his lack of progress. “We found MECH before by estimating locations based on their methods of travel. We knew they had to be close by when they took Breakdown, because all they had were cars and helicopters; and those weren’t capable of moving a Cybertronian very far. And when they made that Optimus clone-”

“Nemesis Prime.” Miko corrected.

Raf stifled a sigh, “-we knew they had to be within driving distance of their attacks, because they didn’t have access to a ground bridge.”

“And now?” Jack kept his attention on the younger male.

“Now, they have cars that travel at one speed, possibly helicopters that move at another. Airachnid moves faster than human helicopters, and Silas can move faster than a human car. The Insecticons are a class of their own, and they can carry a lot of extra weight, which means that they could have easily dragged the others across the continent. We’re pretty sure they still don’t have access to a ground bridge, but that doesn’t help with anything.”

Raf hit a new button and pointed to several dots on the map that were now lit up in orange.

“Silas hit land there, in the mountains in Colorado, after jumping off the ship. Airachnid ground bridged from our base, but still managed to meet up with him. Soundwave was captured here--” he indicated a dot on a completely different part of the map, “—and Starscream was attacked at the _Harbinger_ a few hours later, nowhere near Soundwave.”

“That’s a pretty big spread…”

“It gets worse.” Raf pointed to a few more dots, “Airachnid attacked Optimus there, and MECH has attacked military bases all over the country. There’s no central point to tie all these places together, so we know that some of the places required more travel time than others. I thought I would be able to come up with a logical way of eliminating some options, but there are too many variables to consider.”

“What about where Wheeljack and Dreadwing were attacked?” Miko moved closer to the screen, “I don’t see that dot on here.”

“We don’t know where they were taken from. They bridged to one location, but flew to another. That’s why Wheeljack to his ship. Probably to keep us from stopping them...”

“We’ll figure this out, Raf.” Jack put a hand on Raf’s shoulder, hoping he sounded more optimistic than he felt.

“If I could just get into their heads…if I understood them better, maybe I could make a profile, and use that to make a few guesses…”

“Airachnid’s sadistic, and Silas likes big weapons,” Miko shrugged, “What else is there to understand?”

Jack looked down in alarm when Raf suddenly stiffened. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his mouth was open just slightly.

“That’s it…” Raf’s head shot up. He pulled away from Jack, grabbing his computer quickly before plopping down and beginning to type frantically. “I have an idea.”

“Are you going to tell us about it?”

Raf didn’t answer, his eyes locked on his computer screen. Miko and Jack exchanged a confused look.

“Hello!” Miko waved one hand in an effort to grab his attention, “Earth to Raf!”

“Hey, hey, Miko,” Jack grabbed her arm, “Let him focus. Whatever he just thought of, he thinks it will work.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Why have you called me out here, Shrapnel?”

Shrapnel looked back over his shoulder, watching as his fellow Hive member lumbered up the hill behind him. “Because, Kickback, there is something we need to discuss.”

Night was falling, a cool breeze blew through the grass and surrounding forest, and between the thick panels of their armor. Their red optical bands were beginning to glow brighter and brighter as the light of the day faded away.

“Is this about what Dreadwing told us?” Kickback stopped next to Shrapnel, resisting the urge to dig his pedes into the soft organic soil beneath him.

“You saw the truth in his optics.”

There was a brief hesitation before Kickback responded. “I do not know what I saw.”

Shrapnel shifted; a low growl rumbling through his chassis as his mandibles twitched in annoyance. “You cannot tell me that their words did not affect you.”

Kickback broke optic contact, quiet as he considered the earlier conversation.

“We served Megatron, not long ago.” Shrapnel kept going, “We fought beside Dreadwing. Yet when Airachnid called, we abandoned them.”

“She is our Queen,” Kickback said slowly, as if trying to convince himself, “Our leader.”

“And when Hardshell led us?” Shrapnel prompted, “Did we ever respond to his commands so readily?”

He was given no response.

“We challenged Hardshell from time to time. Both of us. As did others. Have you ever felt like you could challenge Airachnid?”

Kickback shifted uncomfortably, hesitating before looking back at Shrapnel. “Have you ever attempted to disobey her orders?”

Shrapnel shook his head, “Have you?”

“No.”

A deep silence fell between them as Shrapnel watched Kickback consider the choice they had before them.

“What if they are lying?”

“Then we forget this conversation.” Shrapnel scratched at the armor on his shoulder, using his claws the pull dirt from the seams there. “But I do not believe they are lying.”

“How can you be convinced? We have followed Airachnid many times before this; why doubt her now?”

A low hum vibrated through Shrapnel’s chest, his optical band dimming slightly as he thought.

“How did you feel when Hardshell gave an order?”

Kickback’s mandible twitched, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“When he gave you an order, what went through your mind?”

Again, Kickback hesitated, “My emotions varied. I was angry when he ordered a retreat. I celebrated when he gave the order to fight. Why does this matter?”

“How do you feel when Airachnid gives an order?”

Kickback tilted his head slightly, a questioning warble beginning in his throat. After a moment, he looked down slightly, his own optical band starting to dim. “I feel nothing. I obey the orders, but I do not react to them…”

Shrapnel nodded once, “I never noticed until I began to think about it. Her orders leave me numb. I do not think, I simply react.”

“There is a difference between the two...” Kickback curled the claws on his pedes into the dirt. He looked back up so he could meet Shrapnel’s gaze, “What are you suggesting we do?”

Shrapnel inhaled slowly, “I do not know… We need to show the others that Dreadwing could be right, that we are possibly being used.”

“That may prove difficult.” Kickback moved to sit on the ground, “Many of them have the same mind set as Dragger.”

“Do not mention Dragger to me!” Shrapnel hissed, his optical band flashing bright with anger, “His actions are inexcusable!”

“Even Airachnid seemed displeased with him.” Kickback spoke calmly, instinctively lowering his shoulders in response to Shrapnel’s rage. This discussion had already been carried out, this was not a surprise to him

“As she should be.” Shrapnel growled. “He followed orders given by the body stealer. I still cannot understand how Airachnid continues to work with that creature.”

Kickback hesitated for a moment before asking, “Why do we?”

“Because Airachnid does.” Shrapnel sighed, his anger ebbing slightly, “Which is further evidence that she has us under a spell…”

“What if we used him to prove to the others that Dreadwing was right?”

Shrapnel tilted his head slightly, “How do you mean?”

“There are very few of us who approve of _Silas,”_ Kickback spat out the name as if it were leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “what happens if we refuse to follow his orders?”

“Airachnid would command us to listen to him,” Shrapnel slowly perked up as he caught on to Kickback’s plan, “And if we cannot refuse…”

“Then it proves that Airachnid is controlling us.”

Shrapnel nodded, “It will work. The refusal will not draw attention, since she already knows we do not enjoy working with her new partner, but her order will encourage the others to attempt to rebel without us having to tell them to.”

“Exactly.” Kickback looked up at the sky, noting that the position of the moon had changed considerably since they had ventured out of the base, “We should return before anyone becomes suspicious.”

“Agreed.” Shrapnel moved to walk beside Kickback, beginning the journey back to their Hive, “We should keep our optics on the body stealer. I do not like the way he is beginning to look at Dreadwing…”

Their voices faded off as they moved farther from their rendezvous point. Neither of them heard the angry rumble coming from the bushes; and neither of them noticed the glowing red optical band that peered out from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!
> 
> Dragger is not a creative name, but all the good names were taken, so...
> 
> Things are starting to slow down in my life right now, so I might actually have more free time to get this finished!
> 
> In other news, I'm going to be starting another fic soon, so be on the look out for that!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience!!

“Give him an order.” Shockwave did not look away from the screen he and Ratchet were currently watching.

Megatron looked at Optimus, mindful of the cable that was currently attached to the port on his neck, and waited. He almost commented on the look of discomfort that passed over the Prime’s face, but managed to hold his glossa. Some things never changed.

Four days had passed since Shockwave had downloaded the unique codes into them. Four days of continuous tests and waiting. Ratchet and Shockwave were working round the clock, taking shifts during the night for one of them to sleep while the other continued their duties in the lab. So far, they were only now testing their first removal method, dubbed by Smokescreen as “The Cure Code.” It was not surprising that everyone was disappointed by the lack of progress.

But, no one could question the amount of effort being put into the project. Not when Ratchet had to be dragged out of the lab to refuel, and only left when he had work that could be transferred onto a datapad so that he could continue his progress while he half-heartedly sipped at his cube. Not when Shockwave slept in the corner of the lab instead of his hab suite, in order to not waste the three kliks he would be using to travel there and back for his recharge shifts.

They were working as hard as they could. Everyone else was just going to have to be patient.

“Raise your left arm.”

Megatron did nothing at first, attempting to ignore the clear order. It took only a second for the code inside him to take control. His shoulder joint whined softly as it attempted to move on its own, to force him to comply. Briefly, he fought it. He memorized the discomfort, tried to imagine the pain it could bloom into. It was only after Optimus subtly shifted and a cable pulled painfully tight that Megatron slowly lifted his arm. The discomfort immediately dispersed, replaced with soft pleasure that felt almost like warm oil being poured over his plating. Well, that is what Megatron always assumed warm oil would feel like, anyway.

“No change.” He said.

“Not physically.” Shockwave turned the screen slightly so that Ratchet could see more clearly.

“I see it,” Ratchet pointed to a bright spot, “something is different there.”

“That is good news, I hope.” Optimus stepped forward slightly, his optics on Ratchet. Megatron did not miss the slightly larger distance that was being kept between himself and the Prime.

“Well it isn’t bad news.” Ratchet hit a button, “You can disconnect the cable, Megatron.”

Megatron reached up and pulled the cable off smoothly, letting it slip between his digits to hang innocently from the ceiling.

“We will study this change further, and notify you when we are ready to perform more tests.” Shockwave said, obviously dismissing them.

“Go refuel.” Ratchet’s tone was slightly softer, and he even took a moment to glance at Optimus. “Make sure Smokescreen isn’t getting into any trouble.”

Megatron watched the corner of Optimus’ mouth twitch; as if he wanted to smile but was unable to.

“We could make the rounds through the ship,” Megatron moved toward him, “and take the time to finish our final write up of the truce. If we are going to be announcing it across the galaxies, we should get it finished soon.”

“I told Agent Fowler I would meet with General Bryce today.” Optimus said just a little too quickly, “He is feeling more and more uneasy about the current situation.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want the human to be uncomfortable.” Megatron said dryly.

“We can discuss our treaty tonight,” Optimus offered a small smile before leaving, the door sliding shut behind him.

Megatron watched him leave, his face expressionless. They wouldn’t be discussing the treaty that night. They couldn’t be discussing anything that night. Just like they hadn’t discussed anything for the past three. Megatron would be returning to an empty hab suite, again, and falling asleep alone, again.

Irritation flickered through him as he exited the lab. He did not appreciate being ignored.

_No,_ He took a breath as he corrected himself, _not ignored. Avoided._

Ever since he and Optimus had accepted their respective codes, the Prime seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid spending extra time with him. Megatron would go to the mess hall to retrieve his rations, only to find that Optimus had come and gone already. Seeing the familiar red and blue plating in the hallway was almost like seeing a ghost, as Optimus would vanish by the time Megatron caught up to him.

Megatron huffed slightly to himself. No matter. He would pin Optimus down eventually. There were other things to be concerned about.

For example…a slowly deteriorating medic and an increasingly anxious Seeker. Megatron paused in the hallway, his thoughts drifting back to the moment he had accepted the code; the way Knock Out had curled in on himself as he left, the strange look in Starscream’s optics before the door shut behind him.

Sharp digits tapped impatiently against a gray thigh as Megatron considered his options. His last conversation with Knock Out, his last “one-on-one”, had been over an Earth month ago; before the Autobots had moved onto the _Nemesis._ And though Knock Out seemed to harbor less anger toward him, their conversation had been cut short. Then there was Starscream, who Megatron had given no time to since his return…

He drew in a deep breath. This was not his strong suit; he was not Optimus, his crew was not his friends. But, there were still conversations that needed to be had, loyalties that needed to be mended, even if the gesture came late.

Megatron turned at the next hallway and made his way to the medbay.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“For the last time, Starscream, _no!_ ”

Starscream huffed, his wings stiffening, “I cannot stay on this ship any longer, Knock Out! I need to feel the wind against my plating!”

“The flight deck is easily accessible for you to walk on.” Knock Out turned his back on the Seeker, reaching for his datapad so he could work on his patient reports. He suddenly regretted his decision to let Laserbeak go fly around the ship. Starscream argued less when the minicon was with him. “You are not ready to transform. You’re still recovering.”

“I have been recovering since I came back to this ship! How much more time do I need!?”

Knock Out drew in a breath through his vents, grasping at the last bit of his patience. It took a few minutes before he decided he could control his temper. Lack of sleep had lowered his self-control to the bare minimum.

“Do you have any idea how badly injured you were?”

“I’ve been told.”

“But do you understand?” Knock Out turned back to Starscream, his expression unamused, his optics dark, “Ratchet gave me all the details. You were seconds away from death when they found you. Every inch of you had been torn apart, including your internals. Your tank was being held in place by Optimus Prime’s servo. Lines were severed, vents were crushed, that kind of damage takes _time._ You will fly when I have cleared you, and not a moment before.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Their helms shot up at the sound of Megatron’s voice. Starscream raised an optic ridge while Knock Out slowly pulled back, closer to the table and his datapads.

“You finally see fit to grace us with your presence.” Starscream sneered, “What a wondrous occasion this must be.”

“I see you are feeling better.” Megatron said evenly, his optics roaming slowly over Starscream’s healing wounds.

“As I have been trying to tell Knock Out.” Starscream shot the medic in question a look, which went ignored. “Why are you here?”

“To check in.” Megatron stepped farther into the room so that the door could slide shut once again, “On you _and_ your medic.”

Knock Out stiffened slightly as the sharp gaze of his leader turned on him, studying the way he held himself.

“I’m fine.”

“I disagree.” Megatron did not miss the scuffs and scratches that had reappeared in Knock Out’s paint, and it did not take a medic to see the exhaustion that weighed on the mech. “When was the last time you slept?”

Knock Out opened his mouth to defend himself, only to pause at the knowing look in Megatron’s optics. Lying was a useless endeavor. Megatron already knew the truth. He looked away, unwilling to meet his leader’s optics.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by Starscream as he shifted into a more comfortable sitting position.

_Just leave._ Knock Out silently begged Megatron, _There is nothing you can say. I don’t know why you decided to come here, but if it was to tell us to prepare for the worst I don’t want to hear it!_

“We are going to get them back.”

Knock Out snapped his head up, optics widened slightly. Megatron’s gaze was strong and steady.

“Dreadwing is strong. He will survive until we are able to rescue him. We will get him back, Knock Out.”

Knock Out blinked, unsure what to say. After a moment he lowered his optics once more, giving a half-hearted nod. It was easy to see that he was beginning to doubt that possibility. Megatron, having no words to further reassure his medic, turned his attention back to Starscream.

“Listen to Knock Out. Your assistance in finding our missing comrades may prove extremely beneficial, but only if you have your full strength.”

Starscream scoffed slightly, but the expression lacked its usual venom, “Reassurance has never been your strength, Megatron. In fact, you have rarely bothered to offer it before. Did Optimus order you to come here?”

If the crack about Optimus bothered him, Megatron did not show it.

“I came to ensure that my former Second in Command and my medic were in good health.”

Starscream’s optics darkened slightly at the word _former,_ but he did not argue. “One of us is.” He flicked his optics to Knock Out.

“One of us won’t be if he doesn’t stop trying to over work himself.” Knock Out replied heatedly, shooting a mild glare at his patient.

“Both of you need to be resting.” Megatron cut any argument off before it could begin. “Neither of you are of use to anyone if you continue to test your limits.”

“And why do you suddenly seem so concerned for us?” Starscream asked sharply, turning his head to fully face his leader.

Megatron had to resist the urge to snarl in irritation. A quick, calming breath was drawn in through his vents before he replied, “It was brought to my attention that I tend to disregard those serving under my command-”

Knock Out straightened up slightly where he stood, suddenly extremely focused on what was being said.

“-and I am attempted to rectify that.” Megatron looked at Knock Out, catching his optic for a moment. There was something in his gaze, something Knock Out wasn’t sure he’d seen before. Not there, anyway.

_He means what he’s saying…he’s being sincere…_

Starscream appeared to see the same thing. He did not respond, not immediately, though Knock Out was sure he had several barbed comments prepared.

“I will be interested to see how long that lasts.” He said finally, his tone kept carefully neutral. Megatron seemed to find the response fair, for he nodded once before turning toward the door.

“A team of Vehicons will be sent in to assist you, Knock Out. I ask that you let them do their jobs so that you may get some rest.” The door slid open to allow him to exit.

“Why did you do it?” Knock Out blurted the question before he could stop himself. Megatron paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Why did you take the code when Optimus was already willing to do it?”

Megatron turned slightly to better address his medic.

“It was not his mistake to correct.”

With that simple statement, Megatron left the room, the door to the medical bay sliding shut smoothly behind him.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Miko was getting bored.

_Really_ bored.

Ever since Optimus and Megatron had been called to Shockwave’s lab, the ship had gotten quiet. Unnervingly quiet. They had told everyone what had happened, that they had each taken one of Shockwave’s codes so that he and Ratchet could work on erasing them, but that didn’t quite explain why Bulkhead suddenly seemed so distant, or why Bumblebee kept giving Megatron these weird looks no one could explain. Everyone was acting differently, and it was driving Miko nuts.

And yeah, she understood that everyone was busy, that all the work being done was important, really, _really_ important! She was just as worried about Wheeljack as everyone else! But was she the only one who understood that driving themselves to the absolute limit wasn’t going to help anything!?

She barely saw Ratchet anymore, Optimus always had this deep, troubled look in his optics, Bumblebee was quite, Bulkhead was training almost religiously now, even Smokescreen was acting subdued! He followed Arcee everywhere, refueled quickly, ran drills with the Vehicons…it was so different from how he was before…

Then of course there was Raf, who was either at his given work station or sleeping. That was it. No in-between. And Jack was either right there with him, or running to the Pentagon with June and Fowler.

Miko didn’t follow all the science-y stuff. She just wanted in on the action.

Sadly, action seemed to be heavily lacking as of late.

So when she saw Laserbeak drifting around the ship’s corridors, how could she pass up the opportunity to ask for a quick ride?

Laserbeak must have been as bored as she was, because he was all too happy to oblige.

“Woo hoo!” Miko didn’t hold back her joyful shouts as Laserbeak curved sharply around another turn in the hall. It was mostly just the two of them; everyone else seemed to be locked away working on one project or another.

She curled her fingers a little tighter around the edge of Laserbeak’s wing, shifting her weight as he leveled himself out to fly straight down the hall.

“Let’s head for the bridge!” She looked down at the bit of Laserbeak’s face she could see, “Maybe we can get Raf to take a break!”

Laserbeak trilled at her in what she assumed was agreement, and took the next left, banking a little closer to the wall than he had to. There was nothing wrong with a little showing off!

“Whoa!”

“Careful there!”

Laserbeak shot between two Decepticon soldiers who were heading in the same direction, and Miko let out an exhilarated laugh. She looked back over her shoulder to watch the mechs as they flew off.

“Hey, hold on!” She thumped at Laserbeak’s back before lifting her arm to wave at the mechs, “Tripline! Lightyear!” Her fingers curled even tighter around metal wings as her current companion slowed down so he could swoop back around, the motion almost lazy.

“Hey, Miko.” Tripline offered his arm so that Laserbeak had somewhere to land, and Lightyear reached one servo out for Miko to dismount.

“Where are you guys going?” Miko jumped onto the new surface, hardly wavering when it was lifted.

“To the bridge,” Lightyear looked down at her, “Your friend, um…Raf, he sent out a message a few minutes ago asking for everyone.”

“Is he okay?”

“Nothing urgent,” Tripling assured, gently smoothing his free servo over Laserbeak’s wing, “Just said he had something to show us.”

“Sweet!” Miko gave a small jump in celebration, which prompted Lightyear to hurriedly cup his other servo around her. “Laserbeak and I were just heading that way! We’ll come with!”

“Works for me,” Lightyear shifted his arm, pulling Miko slightly closer to his chassis. Miko grinned.

“Don’t worry! I’m not gonna fall, I’ve had practice with this!”

“I haven’t,” Lightyear said, “and your buddy Bulkhead will flatten me if you get splattered on the floor.”

An amused laugh was all the reply he got. Miko took pity on the nervous Eradicon and sat down in his palm, turning her head to watch Tripline and Laserbeak.

_Soundwave must have really been terrified, to give Laserbeak to you._

“Can I ask you something?”

Tripline and Lightyear both tilted their heads to give Miko their attention.

She bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Despite what some of them might think, she was capable of being sensitive about what she talked about. She knew that what she wanted to know involved some dark and heavy stuff. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a nice way of asking, so she went with simple and blunt; though she did soften her voice.

“What happened to the other minicons?”

The Decepticons paused, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Laserbeak let out a soft, sad noise before pushing off of Tripline’s arm and flying ahead of them.

“Look, I know it was bad, alright? Starscream already said Laserbeak was the last one alive, but he didn’t explain what happened.”

“Miko,” Tripline started slowly, “that’s a pretty loaded question. Why do you want to know?”

“I overheard Starscream and Knock Out talking about Soundwave. About how scared he had to be to give Laserbeak to someone. Starscream mentioned the others, but neither of them would give any details. I’m just…curious. What’s the deal with Soundwave? What happened to make Laserbeak so important to him?”

Lightyear exchanged a look with Tripline, who seemed to invent deeply before nodding.

“First thing you have to understand, Miko, is that it’s not just Laserbeak,” Lightyear started walking again, his pace a little slower as he focused on their conversation, “All the minicons were important to him. Which is why he’s so protective of Laserbeak now.”

Miko nodded, listening close.

“War’s an ugly thing, Miko,” Tripline chipped in, “and horrible things can be done to try to win.”

“Like cortical psychic patches and Tox-En?”

“And things like the Wreckers, Squadron-X…the DJD…”

“The who?”

“Never mind.” Lightyear said quickly, “Not important to the topic.”

“The minicons started off as just surveillance workers,” Tripline said, hoping to keep Miko from pressing that particular subject, “but as the war got bigger, they had to start getting more active.”

“Buzzsaw, Rumble, and Frenzy had no problem with it. They’d been wanting to help in the field long before Megatron started asking Soundwave about it.”

“Too eager…” Tripline murmured, almost to himself

“Buzzsaw liked to be sneaky,” Lightyear looked up, his optical band dim as he thought back to the war, “he was good at catching people by surprise. They’d be dead before they realized what happened. So Megatron started sending him out with small teams of scouts; small groups of Decepticons who were supposed to sneak in to Autobot bases, gather any important information they could, and get out.

On his last mission, he got sent to Praxus. There had been a stalemate there for years, with both sides getting desperate for any kind of progress. His team was supposed to searching for blind spots, weaknesses in the Autobot forces. They went too deep, and the group got attacked. But Buzzsaw was small, he was able to slip away from the big fight. He decided to go after the one yelling orders; a mech named Ironhide.”

“We found out later that Ironhide was _from_ Praxus. He was a tough mech, a fierce fighter, and at that moment, he had anger on his side.”

“Minicons aren’t meant to fight bots like Ironhide.” Lightyear almost sighed, “He never stood a chance. At least it was quick…”

Miko looked between the two, staying quiet. They held their silence for a moment, as if in respect for the long fallen minicon, before Tripline continued.

“Rumble and Frenzy were special. They were always ready for a fight, good at what they did, and they were dangerous. _Especially_ when they were together. Which…was pretty much all the time. Frenzy had this…well, for simplicity let’s just call it a scream, that could really screw with your processor. He’d leave you disoriented and feeling like you were on the rough end of a bad overcharge within seconds. And then Rumble would come in. He had been a demolitions expert before the war, and used that skill set to fight.”

“He had built in pile drivers in his arms, and he was strong enough to make the surface of Cybertron tremble under your pedes.”

“They were good at knocking Autobots around until others could get to them.” Tripline concluded, “Which is why I think they would have survived longer than they did if it wasn’t for the twins.”

“What twins?” Miko tilted her head, “I thought Rumble and Frenzy were the twins?”

“Rumble and Frenzy were twins, yes.” Tripline turned a corner before looking down at Miko, “just like Buzzsaw and Laserbeak, and Dreadwing and Skyquake. But I mean the twins that deserted the Decepticons.”

Miko shrugged slightly, “No one’s talked about any twins.”

“They were gladiators in the pits at the same time Megatron was, though they’re younger than he is. And when Megatron started to rebel and talk about over throwing the caste system, they were happy to follow his lead. But after the war started, I don’t know when, I don’t know exactly why, they left. Maybe something personal happened, maybe they were seeing the same changes that Optimus always talks about happening in Megatron, all I know is that one day they were fighting with us, and the next they were gone. They popped up again in Kalis, fighting alongside Optimus and a mech named Jazz.”

“The point is, they knew all about Rumble and Frenzy,” Lightyear cut in, “they had seen them work without being one of their victims.”

“They knew how to stop them.” Tripline said, “They came up with a simple, yet extremely effective plan. Bombs. But not just any bombs; Frenzy’s little scream could short circuit even the best explosives…unless those explosives were designed to be _activated_ by a sonic screech.”

Miko’s eyes widened just slightly, and she slowly sat back down again. Her stomach twisted uneasily; she had a pretty good guess as to who made those bombs…

“The twins lured the minicons near an old building; which they had rigged with bombs, and goaded them into a fight. Frenzy screamed, the bombs destroyed whatever support was left in the building, and…” Tripline looked up, “it took two solar cycles for us to find the bodies.”

“Ratbat was our own fault…” Lightyear continued after a short silence. “I don’t care what anyone else says about it, we brought it on ourselves.”

“Ratbat was a Senator, before the war began, as the minicon representative.” Tripline turned his attention back to Miko, “He chose to fight with the Decepticons, but…no one was really sure why. He was kinda shifty.”

“But,” Lightyear drew Miko’s attention so he could continue the story, “he had a gift for finding fuel. And not just energon; if we could survive off it, Ratbat would find it.”

“Near the end, both factions were getting a bit desperate for fuel, so Ratbat was sent out more and more often. The Autobots were quick to figure that out.”

“Some of the scientists on the Autobot side decided to use that to their advantage, and started messing around with the Tox-En that we had been using against them.” Lightyear sighed heavily, his optical band dimming, “They managed to do something to it, I couldn’t tell you the details, I don’t understand the science, but they manipulated the formula enough so that it didn’t react until our tanks started trying to process it. Ratbat thought it was normal fuel…it only took one drink…”

“It took him forever to pass…” Tripline murmured, “Soundwave couldn’t do anything, so he just sat there and tried to hold him…but when the medics couldn’t even ease the pain…”

“Soundwave was quick about it,” Lightyear said softly, “one quick jab, a sharp blade in the spark…Ratbat probably didn’t even feel it…”

Miko swallowed, suddenly regretting asking about it. The three of them continued toward the bridge, a heavy silence falling between them.

She cleared her throat, “What about Ravage?”

Lightyear and Tripline exchanged a glance, and a bit of confusion took root in the tense atmosphere.

“We…don’t really know what happened to him.” Tripline said slowly.

“He and two others, Thundercracker and Skywarp, just…disappeared.”

“Well, yes and no. There was a space bridge accident, after left Cybertron. The three of them were supposed to be leaving to scout out a new planet, but just as they were going through the bridge, something happened.”

“All we heard over the comms was Thundercracker calling Skywarp an idiot, and Ravage snapping at both of them before the line went dead.” Lightyear scratched at his cheek, “They never showed up on the planet, and we never found any body parts. There was a power surge on the bridge itself, but nothing exploded or anything, so we aren’t really sure what went wrong.”

“We all just assumed they were dead.”

“Soundwave spent _vorns_ trying to track Ravage down. Knocked himself offline twice because he refused to recharge. Eventually Megatron had to order him to stop looking.”

“At least Soundwave listened,” Tripline looked at Lightyear, “Starscream tried to gouge out Megatron’s optics when he gave the order.”

“Starscream wanted to find Ravage that badly?” Miko couldn’t imagine Starscream caring that much about Soundwave’s minicons.

_But look at him and Laserbeak…_

“Pit no.” Lightyear almost snorted, “Starscream couldn’t have given a techno-rat’s aft about Ravage. He wanted to find Thundercracker and Skywarp. His trine mates.”

“Trine mates?”

“Yeah. You know, a Seeker’s Trine?”

“I don’t think she knows what that is, Lightyear.” Tripline almost sounded amused.

“Right, well…” Lightyear tilted his head, “Basically they were Starscream’s family, even if they didn’t always get along. Imagine…imagine if you lost Jack and Raf, or if Bulkhead just disappeared.”

Miko paled slightly, her arms tightening around her knees.

“Yeah, that’s what Starscream went through.”

“Never thought I’d ever feel bad for Starscream…”

Tripline nodded slightly, falling silent as they drew closer to the bridge.

“Hey, Miko,” Lightyear lifted her up closer to his face, “This is a pretty sensitive topic, alright? Starscream doesn’t like to talk about it, and Laserbeak doesn’t want to hear about his brothers, okay?”

“I won’t ask about it,” Miko promised.

“Good. Now, let’s go see what Raf thought was so important.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Even after putting the alert out, even after personally summoning the group to the bridge, Raf was so focused on his work that he nearly missed them all coming in.

“What did you discover, Rafael?” Optimus’ voice, lowered softly so as not to frighten the boy, broke him out of his working trance.

“I think I have a lead on MECH.” Raf cut straight to the point. Laserbeak, who had flown in ahead of everyone else, let out a small screech as he swooped closer to the group, landing quickly in Starscream’s arms so he could hear.

“Where are they?” Miko nearly flew out of Lightyear’s servo in her haste to be next to the younger human.

“How did you find them?”

“I didn’t find them, I said I had a lead.” Raf turned to face everyone, “I wasn’t having any luck trying to track their actual location, so I decided that instead of trying to follow behind them, we could try to get ahead of them.”

::What are you saying, Raf?:: Bumblebee moved closer, his optics whirring and doorwings tilted up.

“I’m saying…I think I know where MECH is going to attack next. I think I know their next target.”

“You do?” Bulkhead’s optics widened. “Where?”

“Here,” Raf stepped on a button, and the map behind him lit up, a glowing blip appearing on screen.

“The Air base in Colorado?” Fowler furrowed his brow, “Why there?”

“I think Silas wants access to our satellites.”

A low murmur of confusion washed over the group.

“What led you to that conclusion?” Megatron asked, his attention focused completely on Raf.

“Silas likes weapons,” Raf turned back to the computer, beginning to pull up his gathered information as he explained, “Miko pointed that out a few days ago. Every time we’ve gone against him, it was to stop him from getting his hands on, or using, dangerous technology. First there was the Dingus, then we had to stop him from getting Cybertronian technology from Breakdown, then from Arcee, and then we had to get Bumblebee’s t-cog back-”

Bumblebee stiffened where he stood, his fists clenching slightly.

“-from there we had to destroy the copy of Optimus he created, and finally his satellite, Project Damocles.”

“His flying laser that he almost killed us with.” Miko added.

“Right. Silas has always been after new technology that would give him power, he basically told us that himself when we first fought him; and right now, he wants power over _us._ ”

“I thought that was what Airachnid was for.” Jack tilted his head at the screen, his arms crossed over his chest, “With that code of hers, she can control any of our guys.”

“But that power belongs to _Airachnid,_ not to Silas. And it’s only useful if she can catch us. We still have an advantage over them.”

“An advantage Silas would want to take away,” Arcee looked up at Optimus. He frowned slightly, but did not interrupt.

“I made a list of everything Silas has stolen since Soundwave went missing.” As Raf spoke, the list of said items appeared for all to see, “With everything there, plus the codes Soundwave’s stolen, I think I know what Silas has been trying to build.”

“Is it worse than Damocles?” Smokescreen asked.

“I think so.” Raf turned once more, “I think he’s making a scrambler, like the one he used on Arcee when he took Mrs. Darby hostage, only bigger. Like, wipe out half the continent’s technology big.”

Arcee’s optics widened, “That one he had nearly fried my processor.”

Raf nodded gravely.

“A scrambler that powerful could destroy our processors before we ever get near him.” Knock Out said, setting his servos on his hips, “We’d never stand a chance.”

“If Silas attacks where I think he’ll attack, it’ll be worse than that.”

“How would it be worse?” Starscream said, his optics on the monitor.

“Imagine that same power, amplified over more than 600 satellites. Because that’s what we’ll have if Silas gets his hands on the command codes in the Air base.”

“That could make a scrambler powerful enough to knock the entire ship out of the sky.” Megatron growled, “We would be stranded on the ground.”

“With no way to disappear,” Lightyear added, “That would destroy our ground bridging system.”

“And our communications,” Tripline spoke up, “We’d be sitting cyber-ducks.”

“Couldn’t you just…fly the ship out of range?” June asked, looking from Megatron to Optimus, “You could move the ship away from the satellites.”

“If Silas gets control of them, he could aim them anywhere he liked.” Raf answered.

“Rafael is correct.” Optimus said, “The better option is stopping from Silas from getting his hands on the codes he requires.”

“We need to move fast, before they make a move!” Bulkhead exclaimed, “This could be our chance to save Jackie!”

“And Dreadwing.” Knock Out’s voice was firm, his jaw setting determinedly.

::Good work, Raf,:: Bumblebee reached a servo down for Raf to step on to, his optics whirling and brightening in obvious pride, ::You did it.::

“We need a plan.” Fowler looked at Optimus, “How do you want to do this?”

Optimus glanced at Megatron, making more optic contact than he had in the last four days. Megatron set his jaw and nodded once. Optimus turned to Fowler.

“Evacuate the base.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Something was different. Shrapnel could feel it in the air, as easily as he could feel a tremor in the walls of a tunnel. There had been a shift, a slight realignment of power, and it left him feeling unbalanced.

Silas no longer spoke to them. Four days had passed since he and Kickback had snuck out to discuss Dreadwing’s comments on Airachnid. Four days had passed since they had come up with a simplistic yet workable plan to prove to the others that they were being controlled.

In those four days, Silas uttered no more than two words to the Hive.

“Be ready.”

That was it. He no longer gave commands, or even looked at them challengingly. Airachnid was the only one who spoke to them now, and even she was acting different.

Dragger, the one who Shrapnel had fully expected to see gutting for what he had done to Wheeljack, for listening to the body snatcher over his Queen’s own orders, was no longer glared at. Instead, he was smiled at, even receiving the odd passing pat when Airachnid was feeling particularly affectionate toward her army. Now it was Kickback who received the odd, hard look, and Shrapnel who was given the cold shoulder.

Of course Dragger noticed this. And he took full advantage of the situation. Where the others lowered their heads and offered respectful rumbles when Shrapnel and Kickback passed, Dragger now puffed his armor, his head held high and optics boring challengingly into theirs. Any retaliation for his show of dominance was met with a sharp reprimand, and sometimes a cruel blow from one of Airachnid’s blades.

Kickback was still nursing the oozing wound on his arm, though it was two days old now.

The others were confused by the sudden change, but none of them seemed to want to question to new power structure. It was driving Shrapnel insane.

_Look at what she has done to us!_

He wanted to scream it at them, pound it into their heads if he had to. There was no longer any doubt in his mind, not now. Airachnid was controlling them, not through loyalty, not as a true Queen, but as a slave driver. Dreadwing had been right; the Wrecker had been telling the truth. It was too obvious to deny it now. Why else would she tell Silas to avoid the Hive? Why else would she have let Dreadwing and Wheeljack back into the main room, only to order them to be silent, and leave them with the punishing marks of acid burns? Why else would she treat the two who were most likely to prove her treachery like deformed hatchlings, knowing that the Hive would eventually begin to do the same and cast them aside?

_Because we know something she does not want us to share. She knows that we were planning on enlightening the others._ Shrapnel turned his gaze to Dragger, a low hiss escaping him when the other Insecticon merely twitched his mandibles in a smirk. _And I know how she found out._

Kickback shifted next to him, pausing for a moment to watch the exchange between him and Dragger. He withdrew his glossa from his wound, taking a break from cleaning the deep cut.

“Don’t.”

Shrapnel rumbled low in his chest, refusing to break optic contact with the over confident youngling.

“If you attempt to fight him, you will only make things worse for us.”

“He needs to be reminded of his place.”

“And what is his place, Shrapnel? What is yours? We are all stuck here for the time being. Until we can convince the others that something is wrong, there is nothing we can do.”

“Do you expect me to do nothing?” Dragger finally looked away, trying to appear bored of the game of dominance, and Shrapnel turned to face Kickback, his plating puffing slightly in victory.

“I expect you to wait.” Kickback leaned his head down to lick at his arm once more, “We aren’t going to get anywhere by fighting blindly.” He flicked his gaze toward the far wall, “Follow Soundwave’s lead. Be patient.”

Shrapnel followed his gaze to the three prisoners across the room. He huffed air through his vents, scraping his claws lightly across the floor.

“Whatever he is planning, I hope it works. For his sake.” He lowered himself to the floor, curling his arms under his head to rest, “I wonder what he is thinking…”

Across the room, Soundwave watched as the two Insecticons murmured to themselves.

“They seem to have taken Dreadwing’s words to spark.” Starscream got comfortable against the wall, his leg pressed against Soundwave’s. “Let’s hope that works to our advantage, and does not serve to irritate Airachnid any further.”

Soundwave dipped his head slightly in agreement, shifting his gaze to look at Dreadwing and Wheeljack. They sat in utter silence, their jaws tense and fields hot with anger. Both of them bore the marks of acid on their faces, a reminder to “mind their mouths”. That had been given to them while Airachnid had been in a good mood. Soundwave was all too aware of what could happen to them if she struck out in rage.

“Have you finished yet?”

_Be patient._

“You know I do not enjoy waiting.”

Soundwave pulsed a small amount of amusement at the Seeker before turning his attention inward. Internal systems check reports were filtering through his HUD, showing him exactly how much he had healed in the week since the others had been captured. Silas and Airachnid had left him to rest for most of the past four days, keeping him well fueled so that he could recover. And he was, though slowly.

The last injury report finally pinged his HUD, drawing all of Soundwave’s attention. The cable in his knee was still the worst injury, with every movement threatening to be the one that snapped it, but there were several other wounds Soundwave had not noticed until he had found a chance to fully evaluate himself.

Every joint in his body was sore, but the one in his right shoulder was wrenched and bent from being forced to stay still, making it stiff and hard to move. There were several plates in his spinal strut that were slightly out of line, and several misfiring nerve receptors throughout his body. Soundwave blinked once at the information. That explained the strange twitch in his left servo and sharp, intermittent pain in his right ankle. Coupled with the strut deep exhaustion that felt like it would never leave, Soundwave felt…weak. Horribly, _wonderfully,_ weak.

He bit back a smile.

“Congratulations, Soundwave,” Starscream set a servo on his shoulder, one claw rubbing lightly over the edge of a carved glyph. “Your plan might actually work.”

Soundwave paused before responding, looking up at the door as Silas walked in. The Hive shifted in their place, their attention focusing on the new arrival. Soundwave could feel the wariness in their fields from across the room. Dreadwing and Wheeljack stiffened, watching him with disgust in their optics. Silas didn’t seem to care.

“Stand, all three of you.”

They stood. There was no choice in the matter. They hurt too much to disobey.

“I have no time for games, and no time to comb over every inch of your bodies.” Silas crossed his arms, staring them down, “I demand full, honest answers, given based off your physical conditions. Do you understand?”

Two voices, stiff and angry, declared, “Yes.”

Soundwave nodded once, dipping his head low.

“Good. Can you fight?”

Silence overtook them as the code demanded that full systems checks be run. Soundwave already knew the answer.

_No._ His HUD flashed warnings at him as the code whispered. _No, you are not capable of fighting._

“Yes.” Dreadwing spoke first, “But I will not be at my full-”

“I did not ask for an argument. A yes will suffice.”

The sound of denta snapping together seemed overly loud as Dreadwing’s mouth forced itself shut.

“Yes.” Wheeljack’s voice was grated, as if he were trying to force himself to stay silent. Soundwave almost felt pity. They could fight, he did not doubt that. But they would be fighting like wounded animals, not the warriors they were.

Silas turned his attention to Soundwave, waiting.

_No. Tell him no._

Soundwave grit his denta, feeling the cables in his neck strain as they attempted to force him to shake his head. Agony erupted through his neck and head as he resisted, all the while attempting to appear as if he were still processing the possibility.

He had to say yes. He had to be allowed into the field!

It took everything he had not to jump when he felt long, sharp digits slide over the back of his head. Hallucination or not, the feeling of Starscream’s servo was as real as the pain in his struts, and when the Seeker pressed down on his head, Soundwave gave in to his direction.

Slowly, he nodded a confirmation.

Silas smirked. “That is exactly what I needed to hear.”

“I think he has a job for us,” Starscream murmured into Soundwave’s audio receptor, the dark smirk obvious in his voice, “Let’s make it our last.”

Soundwave bit his glossa to stop his own smirk from forming.

_Gladly._


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait everyone, thank you all so much for your patience!  
> And thank you for your comments on the last chapter, they always make me smile!

It was too quiet for Bulkhead’s liking.

Fowler had evacuated the base within minutes of Optimus giving the command, and shortly after, they had all moved to surround the area, hiding in wait until Silas attacked. That had been last night. The dark of the night had silently given way to the gray of early dawn, and now the sun was slowly beginning to creep back up into the sky, painting the small wisps of clouds with bold oranges and vivid pinks. Nothing had happened in those long hours. Not a hint of danger, not a sign of any new arrivals.

Bulkhead hated it.

He understood, of course, that there was no way to be sure when Silas would order the others to attack. Everyone had known that going in; their early presence at the base was only to ensure that they did not miss the chance to get ahead of their current problem. Optimus and Megatron had already been discussing the possibility of having to switch troops out during the wait so that everyone would have the opportunity to rest and refuel. Bulkhead understood that this could take time. But now that they had a lead, now that they were _here,_ now that they had a _plan,_ he found that his patience was gone.

He wanted something to happen already. He wanted the Insecticons to attack, and for Soundwave to dive out of the sky. He wanted to fight.

He wanted Jackie back.

Tires shifted slightly in the dirt as Bulkhead tensed and relaxed. _I’m going to get him back._

For a brief moment, Bulkhead reached out over their bond, hoping that this time he would feel Wheeljack reaching back. Maybe this time would be different, maybe this time the bond would open and he would know that Wheeljack was safe.

But this time was just like every other time. The wall Wheeljack had put up was still there, and Bulkhead’s spark throbbed with a dull, hollow pain as its call went unanswered once more.

Deep down, he knew that Wheeljack had a reason to close him off. They had talked about it before bonding; about the dangers they were facing, about how they had to agree to stay open with each other. Wheeljack may have been a stubborn, at times overly independent mech, but he kept his promises. For him to block Bulkhead like this…

Bulkhead tried not to think about what that meant. Wheeljack had to have a reason for this.

That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“All units, report.” Optimus’ voice, deep and commanding over the team wide comm signal, pulled Bulkhead from his thoughts.

“North side secure.” Arcee responded, her voice tight and professional.

“East side clear.” Tripline’s voice held all the obvious boredom that Bulkhead felt. Though it lacked his tension.

::No activity.:: Bumblebee sounded a little more alert, and Bulkhead had to wonder what he and Lightyear were doing to keep themselves from going crazy.

“Same on the South.” Knock Out radioed back to Optimus before Bulkhead could activate his comm. It almost made him jump, as he had not heard the Decepticon make a sound since they had arrived.

“Hold your positions,” Megatron commed back to them, short and curt. The line shut down with a hiss of static.

Bulkhead adjusted his mirror, focusing more on the crimson sports car to his left. For a split second, an unrestrained bolt of fear struck him.

Airachnid had gotten her servos on Knock Out’s mate, and now Breakdown was nothing more than a shell for a disgusting waste of a human being.

Bulkhead prayed and hoped that he wasn’t looking at a glimpse of his future.

He quickly shoved that thought aside. Wheeljack had been through worse; he’d survived capture, torture, suicide runs, years with the Wreckers, and years on his own. Wheeljack was going to be fine.

He had to be.

“Watch the skies!” Smokescreen’s voice cut through Bulkhead’s worries, the urgency in his voice catching everyone’s attention.

Bulkhead looked up, his mirrors quickly adjusting to watch as many angles as possible. Beside him, Knock Out stiffened, his plating creaking quietly at the motion. It was hard to see through the military grade camouflage mesh that covered their position, but their hearing was unobstructed.

Buzzing. Loud, mechanical buzzing. A deep drone that all of them recognized instantly.

Optimus’ command to prepare themselves was unnecessary. Bulkhead’s battle protocals roared to life, and he invented deeply to center himself.

_Show time._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Wind whipped across the open flight deck, worming under plating and chilling the uppermost sensors there. It was refreshing, flowing easily through vents, its sharp string forcing clarity and focus as it lit up flight sensors along thin wings.

Starscream had almost forgotten what it felt like.

His heel struts clicked lightly on the ship’s surface as he paced, slow and leisurely, across the deck. Ratchet and Shockwave were locked in their laboratory, and the others had left hours ago to watch over the human military base. For the first time in over a month, Starscream found himself alone.

A small chirp sounded from above, bringing a small smile to the Seeker’s slim face.

Alright, so he was _almost_ alone. Laserbeak was easy company, and he listened well. Starscream rather enjoyed having him.

“Quit showing off.” Starscream groused, though his voice was playful. Laserbeak only trilled back, flipping once in the air. Starscream rolled his optics, allowing the minicon to have his fun. A small breath was drawn in as he rubbed at one of the weld lines on his chest. Most of them had healed well, leaving thin, dark marks along his body. Knock Out had yet to allow him to buff them out; something about “reminding him of his state”.

“Knock Out is far too cautious.” Starscream murmured, “I have recovered much more than he believes I have.” He looked up once more to watch as Laserbeak lazily dipped and glided through the wind. The sky above him was clear, slowly lightening as the sun began its slow ascent. It was beautiful, perfect for flying.

Yet Starscream was expected to remain earth bound…so to speak.

_You are not ready!_ Knock Out’s voice, sharp and not to be argued with, echoed in his mind.

Starscream snorted to himself. “I have waited long enough. Laserbeak has been flying for days now, and I am not going to lie back and watch him enjoy it without me when I am perfectly capable of flight!”

He strode toward the end of the ship, audio receivers aching just slightly as he drew closer to the loud thrumming of the thrusters. Wings twitched slightly on his back, automatically moving to sense the temperature, speed, and directions of the wind, and oh did the familiar movements feel wonderful! After so long being locked in the medical bay, or, as of late, confined to his own room, the smallest hints of flight felt like a drink of energon to a starving tank. There was no way Starscream could deny himself this now, the sensations felt far too good, far too _right._

The tips of his pedes hung over the very edge of the ship, and Starscream looked down, enjoying the thrill that went up his spinal strut at the sight. It was mostly clouds, but between the thin layers, Starscream could see glimpses of the Earth below. Everything looked so small, so insignificant…it made him feel powerful. Oh how he missed this feeling…

Laserbeak trilled behind him, sounding worried. Starscream felt the gently brush of his wing as he flew past his arm.

“Shh,” he raised a servo to pet the passing minicon, his field calm, “I know what I’m doing.”

The answering chirp, short and shrill, told him that Laserbeak did not agree. Again, he shushed him, inching just a little more over the edge, his balance now placed on his heel struts. His wings trembled, testing the air.

“I know what I’m doing…” Starscream closed his optics.

The floor disappeared from under him, the air he fell through felt hot and thrummed around him, and then…he was flying.

Plating shifted and turned easily, internal systems rerouting and reorganizing to better fit his alt mode. His t-cog worked perfectly, sliding his body through the transformation process as smoothly as it had the very first time. Thrusters charged and fired upon command, without hesitation or stalling, and soon Starscream found himself flying high above the ship.

He could have sang.

It had been far too long since he had been able to soar through the skies, slicing through the air like a laser through soft metal, cutting the clouds apart as he passed. Nothing compared to the feeling, the absolute freedom that flight brought to him.

Diving low, Starscream brought himself close to the ship, spinning artfully around as he flew over the top and allowing himself one joyous laugh as Laserbeak followed after him, chirping and trilling in celebration. Unable to resist showing off at least a little, Starscream pulled himself straight up once more, flipping in several loop-de-loops and relishing in the excited noises the minicon made. Laserbeak mimicked him, flying as fast as he could to keep up with the Seeker.

Starscream laughed again, “I told you I knew what I was doing!” He barrel rolled, letting himself enjoy the moment. Who cared if he looked like an over eager newspark on his first free flight? He was finally free!

Laserbeak trilled at him, mirroring his trick before moving to fly just above him, lightly skimming his underbelly along Starscream’s back in a careful nuzzle.

“Knock Out was worried for nothing.” Starscream flared the few pieces of plating he could to allow more of the chilled air to flow over his protoform, “I could have been flying days ago!”

A high pitched chittering was his response, and suddenly Laserbeak was gone, turning to fly back toward the ship.

“Where are you going? I am nowhere near finished!”

Laserbeak chirped, fluttering his stabilizers insistently.

“Laserbeak, I’m _fine!”_ Starscream was not going to give in so easily. “Look at me!” As if to prove his point, Starscream shot forward, pulling his nosecone up sharply to start another loop-de-loop.

Pain erupted deep in his body, as sudden and as sharp as a stab through the chest, and his engine faltered with a choked whine. Starscream yelled out, his vision filling with static as bolts of agony raced out from his core. Gears squealed as they attempted to shift without permission, almost as if...

“My t-cog!” Starscream rasped, trying to hold back his cries of agony. His cog ground painfully inside him, forcibly trying to transform him back to root mode, and something in his chassis clenched tightly. Without warning, his thrusters cut off, and for a spark stopping moment Starscream dropped straight down, unable to correct himself or attempt to fly. Error messages popped up in his HUD, one after the other, forming a continuous list of warnings. Laserbeak screeched in fear, diving down to fly beside him.

“Back!” The word grated as it left his voice box, “Get back!” Plating flared again and Starscream inhaled deeply through his vents to attempt to cool his quickly overheating systems. With a mechanical stutter, his engine fired up again, flickering weakly before roaring to life. Starscream wasted no time, shooting forward and up as much as he could. He had to get back to the ship! Laserbeak flew right beside him, whistling and chirping to keep him going.

“Get…Ratchet…” Starscream tried to order Laserbeak, unsure if the words were even making it past his voice box, “Go…Ratchet!” The _Nemesis_ loomed in his vision, swimming in darkness and static. Fear gripped at his spark. He couldn’t tell how far away it was. How far had he flown? What if he couldn’t make it? What if his engine failed again? Laserbeak trilled loudly before taking off, shooting past Starscream easily and racing for the ship.

_He shouldn’t be faster than me…_ Pain raced up and down his nerve receptors, mixing with the growing wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Darkness overtook him for a terrifying moment, and when his vision cleared the ship was closer, almost directly beneath him. Starscream barely managed to point himself down before he blacked out again. He woke seconds before impact, managing to pull himself up just before crashing directly onto the flight deck.

Agony consumed him as soon as he landed, his t-cog working overtime to force him to transform. He hit the deck with a crash, rolling several feet along the floor in a mess of flailing limbs before sliding to a stop, face down on the deck. Darkness swirled in front of his optics, and a high pitched buzzing filled his audial receivers. All he felt was pain.

_I was fine…_ Starscream attempted to shift his arm, only to howl as the movement set his nerve receptors on fire. _I was fine!_

He had no way to tell how long he laid there. It was likely only seconds, but it felt like hours. It could have even been days; it was hard to track the time when one continued to drift in and out of consciousness. The drips of energon beneath him slowly formed a small puddle, then he blinked and suddenly it was a pool.

_I’m going to die._ The words were little more than a whisper in his mind. The darkness around his vision seemed to grow stronger. He was getting so tired…

The door leading off the deck slid open. A vague shout made it past the buzzing.

Starscream closed his optics and surrendered to the darkness.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The sky was still a dusky gray when Silas and Airachnid entered the room. Soundwave and his fellow captives stiffened, knowing exactly what they were going to say, while across the room, the Insecticons began to stir and stretch in preparation.

“I have one last job for you.” Silas stopped in front of Soundwave. It was a simple job, one Soundwave had pulled off before. He wanted a code, and he wanted to deliver a worm. Soundwave took the MECH engineered program without a fight, nodding once as Silas explained the importance of it being uploaded into the military servers, hardly listening. His attention was not on Silas, not completely.

Airachnid made for a much more interesting picture.

She stood away from Silas with arms crossed and her sharp gaze flicking over his broad back in a way that reminded Soundwave of a predator searching for a weak spot. There was something in her optics, something frightening, and for a fleeting second Soundwave almost wanted to warn Silas of the danger he was in. That look never meant anything other than pain. But then Soundwave remembered the way Wheeljack had bounced off the floor, helpless against the Insecticon attacking him, and the way Dreadwing had writhed and yelled under the MECH leader’s pede, and that tiny glimmer of pity fled his mind as if chased by a starving scraplet.

Silas deserved whatever Airachnid had planned for him.

By the looks of it, a few of the Insecticons agreed with him. Soundwave did not miss the way some of them tensed, watching their Queen as if waiting for her to snap. Two of them exchanged a glance, seeming more cautious of the situation, quietly chittering to each other before backing into the shadows. Soundwave saw a flash of the still open wound on one of their arms, and the reason for their retreat became instantly apparent.

Airachnid was clearly unhappy. People got hurt when Airachnid was unhappy.

Soundwave missed whatever Silas told the others; his attention momentarily stolen by the image of Starscream stretching his wings, as if preparing himself for flight.

“This is it,” Starscream turned to face him, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, “Now or never, Soundwave.”

There was no need for Soundwave to agree, they both knew it to be true. This was his last chance.

“No need to thank me,” Starscream grinned, “I only saved your mind and allowed you to make it this far.”

It was foolish, Starscream was only a figment of his imagination after all, but Soundwave could not help the rush of gratitude that he felt toward the Seeker in front of him. If he had not appeared, if Soundwave had not conjured the over confident mech to push him forward…he really didn’t want to consider what he would have done…

“Soundwave.” Airachnid’s sharp tone tore his attention away from his illusion as every fiber of his being focused on what his _Master_ had to say. She grabbed his chin tightly, forcing him to hold her gaze. “I want no games today.” Her voice was colder than the artic, and Soundwave hated the trickle of fear it caused to run down his spinal strut. “You _will_ transfer the code to Megatron, do you understand me?”

He could do nothing but nod, silently agreeing to her command. She stared him down a moment longer before releasing him and turning to her other captives.

“You have your orders.” She looked at Silas out of the corner of her optic, “Fight off anyone who threatens the mission. Capture someone if you can. I will be waiting for you to return.”

“Are you going to give them transmitters?” Silas looked at Airachnid calmly, seemingly oblivious to her darker mood. Soundwave resisted the urge to glare at him. He despised that device; it left him no way to block out her voice, and the awkward shape and weight on the side of his head made him feel off balance.

Airachnid nodded once. The three prisoners were forced to stay still as the devices were attached to their heads, and then they were out the door.

Transforming hurt. Stars danced in Soundwave’s vision for a split second before he was able to clear his mind and take off. The low pained groan that sounded from beside him betrayed the fact that Dreadwing was suffering from similar pains, but Soundwave could not take the time to check on the larger jet. It wasn’t like Dreadwing could answer him anyway. Wheeljack growled in annoyance, almost unnoticed over the sound of flight engines and Insecticon wings. An Insecticon had scooped him up, under orders to carry the one mech who could not fly. The Wrecker was less than thrilled about the situation.

The flight to the military base seemed to stretch on forever, though it could not have been more than an hour or two. Soundwave positioned himself between Dreadwing and the Insecticon carrying Wheeljack, focusing on the push and pull of their EM fields. Anger, exhaustion, and fear washed over him from both sides.

Though, he realized after a moment, not all of it came from his fellow captives.

The Insecticon holding Wheeljack was just as tense, his field buzzing with violent anger. It was harder to read the Hive’s faces when they were in their alt modes, but Soundwave could just barely see the way his optics flicked over to him, to Dreadwing, and his field would flare just slightly with an emotion Soundwave had almost forgotten existed.

Concern.

It caught Soundwave off guard. Was the Insecticon worried about _them?_ Did he actually care about the state they were in?

_They seem to have taken Dreadwing’s words to spark._

Soundwave hoped that the Insecticon’s worry proved helpful. Dreadwing and Wheeljack would need all the assistance they could get once he was gone.

The thought caused a strange pang of worry to stab at his own spark. Was leaving them a good idea? Would it be better for him to forget his escape, forget finding Megatron, and try to make it back with them? Would it be more useful to find a way to escape with them as well?

He mentally shook himself. No. This was his last chance. He could help the others once he was back on the _Nemesis._

As long as Megatron found him quickly, everything would be okay.

The Insecticons in front of him dipped down, aiming for the cluster of buildings they could see on the ground. Soundwave invented silently, preparing himself. They had arrived.

Unlike the rest of the bases they had attacked, this one seemed empty. There were no alarms that tore through the quiet of the morning, even when the group was well within sight range. No humans scurried from the buildings, no shots were fired. A few lights could be seen in windows, but otherwise the area appeared deserted. It was…eerie.

Confusion swept through the groups fields. They had all grown used to being met with resistance as the humans pitifully attempted to defend themselves. The stillness was throwing them off.

Dreadwing began to veer to the left as they grew closer to the ground, following a group of Insecticons to patrol the skies around the base. Wheeljack was taken farther down, several others following after him. Soundwave directed his attention to the main building, earlier orders demanding he get the necessary codes he had been sent for.

His transmitter was silent.

Wheeljack was almost to the ground, his legs were outstretched in anticipation, his optics locked on the nearing surface, when the base seemed to explode in a mix of noise and movement.

Blaster fire from all directions scattered the small groups of Insecticons. The one holding Wheeljack screeched in pain as a well-aimed shot scorched his throat. He dropped his charge, and Wheeljack landed hard on the earth below, rolling clumsily as the makeshift splint on his ankle forced his leg to stiffen.

Boxes flew through the air as Knock Out and Bulkhead roared out from behind a covered cargo drop, their engines revving loudly. Bulkhead shot straight for Wheeljack. Knock Out kept driving, attempting to follow the path Dreadwing was taking in the sky above him.

Optimus’ deep voice boomed across the base, yelling orders as the rest of the Autobots abandoned their hiding spots to join the fray.

Soundwave had barely a second to take it all in; his attention was forcibly kept on the building before him, his blasters charging to blow the roof apart so that he could get to the computers within. Insecticons screamed around him, and he could just barely hear the whine of Arcee’s engine as she tore her way across the asphalt.

_Close, almost there…_

His engine stuttered for a moment, pain lancing through the back half of his alt mode as the increased activity began to catch up to his stressed systems. It felt as though a wire had shorted, or had pulled free from its proper place. But it passed within seconds, and Soundwave opened fire.

The roof blasted to pieces under him, leaving behind a gaping hole perfect for him to fly in. Or, for someone _else,_ to fly _out._

Soundwave had no idea how Megatron had gotten into the building; large as it was, his leader was simply too big to fit through one of the doors. But, challenging though it must have been, Megatron had found a way, and now that the roof was gone, with an exit so clearly offered to him, he put his own plan into motion.

They almost collided. Soundwave was forced to drop into an almost vertical dive as Megatron’s jet form flew within inches of his nose cone. He attempted to pull up again, but he was quickly overshadowed by Megatron, who had flipped around with almost unbelievable speed. The heavier form pressed down on his back, forcing him to the ground.

Soundwave could not fight the relief that swept through his spark.

He hit the ground hard, transforming at the last second and sliding to a stop before whirling around to face his leader. Joints and cables flared hot in protest, causing him to stumble as they pulled tight.

Tremors shook the ground as Megatron landed, drawing himself up to his full height. Red optics raked over Soundwave’s body from head to toe, and the frown on Megatron’s face turned to a snarl. Soundwave could only imagine what he was seeing.

His plating was scarred and pitted now, and Airachnid’s carvings still looked, and felt, raw. Biolights were dim with exhaustion, his posture was different as he compensated for the pain in his knee, and his face, exposed to his leader for the first time in millennia, still bore the scratches from Airachnid’s claws.

Shame gripped his spark, burning his soul worse than any code or acid. Soundwave looked away, unable to meet Megatron’s gaze.

“You are not going back with her.” Megatron growled over the roar of the battle going on around them, fury bright and white hot in his field. “This ends. _Now.”_

_“You are to upload the code into him, Soundwave!”_ Airachnid commanded, her voice crackling through the transmitter, “ _Do it!”_

Soundwave’s mouth ran dry, his servos suddenly beginning to shake. No, _no!_ Not that order, _anything_ but that command! He couldn’t control himself this time, not like he had before. If he infected Megatron, Airachnid won. That couldn’t happen, he could not allow that to happen!

Warmth pressed against Soundwave’s back, stopping his thoughts and causing him to jump before he realized what was happening. Starscream, his field calm and touch confident, was pressed against him. Servos ran down his arms and gripped close to his wrists as Starscream pulled Soundwave into his fighting stance.

“Look at him.”

Soundwave raised his head once more, forcing himself to look at Megatron, who was watching him carefully.

“Megatron will win, Soundwave.” Starscream murmured into his audio receiver. “You know he will. Your plan is working. Let’s not waste this opportunity.” He pulled away, leaving Soundwave to stand alone, “Let’s go home.”

_Home._ The word rang through his mind like the sweetest bell. Home; the _Nemesis,_ the Iacon database, Laserbeak.

Soundwave clenched his jaw and tightened his stance, adjusting his legs for balance. His cables extended without his consent, ready to follow orders and transfer the coding at the first opportunity.

Megatron struck quickly, twisting his body around the cables as they lashed out at him and swinging hard for Soundwave’s head. Soundwave ducked, his spinal strut straining painfully but moving smoothly none the less. He spun under Megatron’s arm, pivoting on left pede and kicking out with his right, following the urges from the code for the moment. Fighting against it would only lead to more agony, should he make it out of this.

_Fight him off, transfer the code._

An iron grip latched around his leg, and Soundwave flailed for balance as Megatron yanked him forward, practically throwing him in the opposite direction. Servos splayed out, cables pressed against the ground, and Soundwave caught himself, flipping up onto his pedes. It was a messy maneuver, the landing clumsy, but it served its purpose. Behind him, Megatron snarled, the ground shaking slightly under his pedes as he rushed forward to grab his spy master. Soundwave jumped forward, dodging to one side to avoid the blow coming from behind. He felt the rush of air down his back as Megatron’s fist just barely missed him. More time, he needed more time! Cables lashed through the air angrily, wanting nothing more than to follow orders and transfer the code to Megatron. Soundwave needed more time to fight it!

_“Quit playing games!”_ An irritated snap sounded over his transmitter, and Soundwave felt his already weak resolve crumble. He couldn’t fight this, not anymore. So when Megatron followed after him, ready to strike out and grab, Soundwave turned, arms raised to deflect the blow.

His vision went white as his knee erupted in an inferno of agony.

The cable, ripped and stretched, forced to its limit and held together by luck and prayer, had finally snapped. Energon streamed down his leg, hot and thick, and sprayed the ground beneath him as he collapsed. The impact of the snapped cable had cut an energon line, spilling the life blood into the dirt. Soundwave’s vision swam.

“ _What are you doing!?”_ Airachnid screamed in his audio receiver, “ _Transfer the code! Finish this!”_

“Soundwave!” Megatron fell upon him in an instant, forcing him to the ground and pinning him on his back. One servo was slammed down, trapped in Megatron’s grip. “Listen to me!”

But Soundwave couldn’t fight the code, not anymore. His body buzzed with intent, his mind focusing on just one thing. Megatron ducked with a growl as Soundwave swung at him with his free servo, barely avoiding the blow.

_I can’t infect Lord Megatron!_ Soundwave couldn’t focus. Cables dodged and weaved between them as they struggled, winding around their arms in search of Megatron’s medical port. Panic surfaced beneath the waves of agony and code-forced drive. This wasn’t part of the plan! He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t hand Megatron to Airachnid like this! But if he didn’t, if Megatron took him now, he would be of no help to anyone; not when he would be writhing, trapped in the suffering that came from disobeying.

“Do it, Soundwave!”

“ _Do it!”_ Airachnid screamed again.

Soundwave wrenched his head, slamming the side of it into Megatron’s thickly plated arm. Once, twice, and the transmitter fell from his head, crushed to nothing under the impact. Airachnid’s voice died with it.

“Listen to me!” Sharp digits curled around one of his cables, and Soundwave’s optics widened. “Do it, Soundwave!” Megatron forced the cable to his neck, barely flinching as it attached to the port there. Soundwave jerked, trying to pull free, but Megatron only tightened his grip. Red optics bore into purple. “Do it!”

He couldn’t stop himself. Programs initiated without his consent, and to Soundwave’s mounting horror the code began to transfer. Biolights along the cable glowed, pulsing as the transfer went through. Something pinged. Soundwave held his breath as he waited for the action to complete. The code began to fall silent, soothing his pain with the pleasure of obedience. Soundwave almost felt the urge to sob.

After everything, after all the agony and waiting, he had failed. Failed Lord Megatron, failed himself. Everything he had done to keep himself in the fight, to bring himself to just the right edge of weakness so that Megatron could take him home…it was all for nothing. Airachnid had won. Any second now, his HUD would light up to tell him he had succeeded in giving Airachnid and Silas exactly what they wanted.

But nothing happened. No green light, no chime of success, only a long pause of nothingness as the transfer completed.

_Progress: Transfer blocked_

Soundwave’s optics widened, reading the alert in his HUD again and again.

_Transfer blocked._

Confusion pulsed through his field, muted by the exhaustion that was quickly starting to smother him. His job was complete, the code was satisfied, and he was so, so tired…

But no! He had to understand! How was this possible?

Optimus yelled across the field, his deep voice carrying easily over to the two Decepticons lying on the blacktop. Megatron’s response was obvious; the quick twitch of his body, the way he turned to immediately give his attention to his Master.

Soundwave’s jaw dropped, a cold rush of horror and rage beginning to drown his spark.

“I will explain later, Soundwave,” Megatron told him, easily seeing the anger and confusion on the spy’s face, “All will be explained.”

Soundwave tried to nod, Megatron sounded so calm, so unafraid, there was obviously more to the situation that Soundwave saw. But he was too tired; it was getting too hard to stay awake. Darkness was beginning to cloud his vision, his body felt heavy.

Megatron moved off of him, carefully reaching to pull him up from the ground. A shadow fell over Soundwave again, taking the warlord’s place.

Starscream leaned down and smiled, truly smiled. No smirk, no self-satisfied grin, a genuine, almost gentle smile.

“You did well, Soundwave.”

He set his servo over purple optics, and Soundwave let the darkness take him.

Megatron stood as his TIC fell limp in his arms, holding him tight against his chest. Around him, the battle was deafening. Insecticon’s screamed in defiance, engines roared, and blasters fired nonstop as the troops attempted to hold them off. His attention immediately fell on Optimus, who stood with Bumblebee between three Insecticons, blaster glowing and blade dripping with energon. Safe. He was safe for the moment, so Megatron moved on, trying to take in the rest of the battle. A flash of red drew his gaze.

“You can fight her!” Knock Out yelled over the chaos, his voice almost pleading. Dreadwing watched him, silent, his optics dim. His paint was almost gone, leaving him with nothing more than streaks of blue on the more guarded parts of his body. Weld lines crisscrossed his torso and arms, his cockpit was shattered, warped portions of metal hinted at dents that had long been removed, and when he opened his mouth, the jagged, sharp remains of his denta could be seen. A nasty acid burn took up much of the left side of his face.

“We can fix this!” Knock Out tried to step closer, one servo outstretched toward Dreadwing’s face. He was forced to jump back when Dreadwing’s punched at him, the movement stiff and halfhearted. “Please, fight it! You’re strong enough!”

Sorrow flickered over Dreadwing’s face. His mouth moved, attempting to form words, but nothing came out. Dreadwing flinched away from the shock on Knock Out’s face.

“Let me help you,” Knock Out reached out again, “This is reversible!”

Dreadwing flinched again, his joints audibly squealing as he resisted some unheard order. Fists clenched tightly, his optics screwed shut. A pede shifted back, away from Knock Out, and the weak sound of an engine firing up could be heard.

“No, Dreadwing, _don’t_!” Knock Out jumped at him just as Dreadwing leapt up, transforming and shooting off into the sky. “ _No!”_

But Dreadwing didn’t stop. Did not even slow. Knock Out watched him leave, his arms beginning to shake.

“Knock Out! Behind you!” Arcee’s voice seemed to snap him out of his daze momentarily. He swept around instantly, bringing up his shock prod directly into the face of a pouncing Insecticon. Glass shattered as the tips of the prod broke through the optical band and embedded into the softer protometal beneath it. The creature shrieked, convulsing from the shock and stumbling back. Knock Out followed him, forcing the prod deeper into his face. Metal around the optical band scorched and began to melt, the pitch of the shriek rose higher and higher until it cut off as the Insecticon collapsed, his visor going dark. When Knock Out finally pulled back, his prod now dropping with energon and optical fluids, his optics were dim and glassy.

The rest of the Insecticons began to screech, many of them pulling back. Tripline yelled in frustration as his opponent suddenly retreated, taking to the sky before he could attack.

“Jackie, don’t!” Across the battlefield, away from the majority of the fighting, Bulkhead attempted to grab his lover as he pulled away. His arms were scratched and nicked, energon welling slightly from shallow wounds, but he could not bring himself to care. Not when he saw the state Wheeljack was in.

His winglets were mostly destroyed, reduced to lumps of twisted metal. Weld marks that were obviously covering claw marks took up most of his sides and stomach. The splint on his ankle was crude, and Bulkhead could see the dents where Silas’ engineers had roughly forced the pede back into position. It was painfully obvious that his elbow had been wrenched out of place, Bulkhead had seen it from the first swing Wheeljack had taken at him. His left optic was dark, the thick glass cracked and scratched, and a horrible burn had been slashed across his face, from the left side of his jaw up over his right cheek. It made Bulkhead sick, and the way Wheeljack was looking at him, as if he hated himself for every fleck of missing paint his blades had taken from the larger mech, made his spark twist painfully.

“Don’t leave!” Bulkhead managed to snatch his wrist, holding tightly, “We can help you, Jackie! I can help you! You gotta fight!”

Wheeljack looked at him, working optic flashing in pain as he tried to pull away.

“Jackie, c’mon, I’m not letting you go! You can’t shut me out!” Bulkhead touched his own chest, almost pleading, “Let me help you!”

For a moment, Wheeljack went still. His arm shook, and his field was rough with pain, but he did not try to pull away. He met Bulkhead’s gaze, his lips moving slowly as he tried to speak.

The Insecticon came out of nowhere, suddenly swooping down to grab Wheeljack before Bulkhead could pull him back. He lost his grip as the bug gave a harsh tug, and though he yelled and cursed and tried to give chase, he could do nothing but watch as Wheeljack was taken from him.

Silence fell across the base as the Insecticons fled, leaving all of them staring up after them as they disappeared in a dense cloud. Bulkhead swallowed hard, but could not dislodge the lump that had grown in his throat as he replayed the words Wheeljack had mouthed to him.

_I love you, Bulkhead._

_I’m sorry..._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, yay!  
> Thanks again for your patience guys!

“We have to go.”

The silence lasted for less than a second, shattered by Megatron as he rushed across the base to meet up with the rest of the group.

“Holy frag!” Lightyear swore, visor brightening at the sight of his leader running toward him, a limp, bleeding Soundwave in his arms.

“You got him…” Smokescreen almost whispered, reaching out a servo to get Arcee’s attention. She glanced toward him, then at Megatron, before giving her attention back to Bulkhead. He hadn’t flinched from his spot at the edge of battle, his attention still focused on the sky.

Optimus didn’t hesitate to activate his commlink. “Requesting emergency ground bridge!” His optics locked on the energon that was still spurting from Soundwave’s leg. There was a sizeable puddle shimmering on the ground where Megatron had taken him down, and the warlord’s legs were splattered in blue as the split line continued to pump the precious mech-blood out. Soundwave needed a medic, _now._

“And tell Ratchet to prepare the sick bay!”

A bridge opened almost immediately, and Megatron rushed through it without another word.

“Ratchet is not currently available.” A Vehicon commed Optimus back, sounding a little nervous.

“Shockwave can continue working on the code without him. Megatron is bringing an injured Soundwave through as we speak. He needs immediate medical attention.”

“I would get Knock Out in here then.”

Optimus looked to the Decepticon medic. Knock Out was gripping his shock prod tightly, leaning against it as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. His optics were closed, his jaw clenched, and his shoulders slumped. Tripline and Lightyear’s efforts to get his attention went ignored.

He had come so close, had been able to reach out and touch the one he’d lost, only to watch him be taken once again. It was a torture no one deserved, and Optimus’ spark ached for him and for Bulkhead, who still had not moved, even as Arcee and Bumblebee approached him.

“Knock Out is not currently in a position to act as medic. Relay my message to Ratchet.”

“That’s…going to be a problem.”

Optimus’ brow furrowed. A wave of worry began to swell in his spark. What could have possibly happened to prevent Ratchet from being able to help Soundwave?

Had there been an accident in the lab?

Had something happened in one of the mines?

Was Ratchet hurt?

Forcing himself to keep his imagination under control, Optimus touched his comm again.

“What happened?”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Consciousness came back to him in pieces; not enough for him to wake completely, but enough for him to be aware. His vision swam, the darkness ebbing and flowing as his optics struggled to remain online.

The bridge of the _Nemesis_ was crowded, Vehicons stood at every console, and others were rushing in and out as they gathered and delivered energon and tools. Soundwave barely focused on the Eradicon that rushed forward to meet Megatron. They were talking, but only bits and pieces made it through the thick static that seemed to stick in Soundwave’s audio receivers.

“…didn’t know…out of nowhere.”

“How soon…medical bay…?”

“…might not make it…”

Soundwave struggled to focus. Who were they talking about?

_It doesn’t matter, there’s something I have to do…_

Something was nagging at the back of his mind, a job he needed to finish.

But he was so tired…felt so weak…he just wanted to sleep.

Darkness took over again, dulling the pain that radiated over every inch of his body. Burning irritation from the carvings on his torso, sharp pain from every joint, and the throbbing agony that was his knee, all quieted once more.

“Wake up.”

Optics flickered online again, focusing momentarily on Megatron’s face. They were running down a hall now, and the passing blur that was the wall threatened to make Soundwave purge the last remaining fumes of energon that swirled in his tank. He closed his optics quickly.

“They need you.”

Soundwave almost jolted in Megatron’s arms, wincing as the movement only made the pain more intense. That voice had not come from Megatron, or from the Eradicon, who Soundwave realized was no longer with them.

_They…?_

Whatever Soundwave as forgetting, it was important. He could feel it. But the more he tried to think, the harder he tried to remember, the more his head hurt, the more he wanted to sleep. His head rolled off of Megatron’s arm, falling limp to hang down over his elbow. Focus, he had to focus!

A computer console flashed by, the screen blinking brightly. Why did the sight of it grab his attention so abruptly?

Soundwave blinked slowly, struggling to fight off the blurriness that was taking over again. A flash of silver caught his attention, long wings disappearing around a corner before he could see the whole figure. It was enough.

_Starscream!_

Dreadwing being attacked, Wheeljack torn to pieces, screeching Insecticons and Arachnid’s sick, sick grin, all flashed through his mind.

They were still there, they were still in danger. Soundwave had made his plan work; he had let Airachnid wear him down, weaken him, so that Megatron could overpower him and take him home. Now he had to finish the deal, he had to tell him where to find the others!

“What are you doing!?” Megatron stumbled to a halt, yelling out as Soundwave forcibly shoved off his chest. He lost his grip, and Soundwave rolled from his arms, landing hard on the floor with an echoing clang. Megatron knelt down quickly, intending to scoop him back up, but Soundwave swung his arm at him, shaking his head. Thin digits scraped against the floor as Soundwave tried to pull himself forward, optics locked on the console they had passed.

“Soundwave! You are losing energon!”

Soundwave ignored him. He had to get to the console, he had to tell him where Silas was!

A hard mechanical whine came from his right, and with a hiss of hydraulics and a small pop, Soundwave’s elbow gave. He fell flat against the floor, his face scraping against the cold metal. The scratches from Airachnid’s claws split open, and he could feel the heat as energon began to trickle down his cheek. Darkness threatened to overtake him again.

_I’m not going to make it, not like this…_

_Transfer the code!_

A reflexive jerk made Soundwave claw at the floor as Airachnid’s voice echoed in his mind. The cables in his chassis twitched in their housing before going still. He had already completed that task.

Soundwave lifted his head quickly, cringing at the pain the action sent through his neck. An idea was forming in his mind. He needed to reach the console, and that blasted code was not the only thing he could transfer.

One cable snaked out from under him, moving smoothly across the floor.

“We do not have time for this!” Megatron reached down, carefully but quickly grabbing Soundwave around the waist. Soundwave struggled weakly, but it was hard to fight off the touch when all his energy was focused on connecting his cable to the computer. Critical alerts were starting to flash across his HUD, warning him of dangerously low energon levels.

_Just…a little more…time…_

Soundwave could barely keep himself awake now. His processor was beginning to spin, his cable suddenly felt as if it was swimming through jellied energon. He couldn’t even tell if it was moving anymore. Then there was a click, and a confirmation ping went off in his processor. He had connected. Quickly, Soundwave accessed the information he needed, frantically giving the command to send it across his cable. One second more, just one nano-cycle…

Megatron gave a sharp tug on his cable, disconnecting it from the console as he turned and continued his rush down the hall. Soundwave shook his head, weakly reaching back toward the rapidly disappearing console.

S _hut down: Imminent._

A door opened with a loud _whoosh,_ and Soundwave suddenly realized where they had been running to.

The medical bay was in chaos. Monitors beeped loudly, and Soundwave could see flashes of energon lines and life support cables through the static in his vision.

“I need more energon in here!” Ratchet yelled out, not looking up from the medical table he was working over. A Vehicon rushed forward, adding more energon to the supply line.

_Shut down: Imminent._

A monitor went off, the steady beep of a spark rate giving way to an urgent alarm that had Ratchet scrambling for his defibrillators.

“Clear!”

Ratchet shifted to the side to better his reach, and Soundwave turned his head to see who he was working on.

The red crest was folded back, bent almost completely around the curve of the mech’s helm. One arm was bent awkwardly, the elbow twisted and torn at the joint. Both legs were dented, with one leg twisted at the knee and one pede bent at an unhealthy ankle. Small pieces of plating were pulled up, leaving jagged wounds that exposed pinched and twisted cables and ripped wires. The silver chest had been cut opened, obviously by Ratchet, and from the small glimpses Soundwave could see of his internals…it did not look good.

Soundwave’s optics widened. His spark skipped a beat.

_Starscream!?_

_Shut down: Immin-_

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Come on, come on!” Ratchet looked up at the monitor, seeing no change in Starscream’s spark rate. “Clear!” He yelled out before shocking the mech once more. The monitor beeped rapidly before evening out again. His spark was weak, but it was steady. Ratchet put his defibrillators down, quickly going back to his tools and bending over Starscream’s body.

“Soundwave needs help!” Megatron barked from behind him.

“As does Starscream!” Ratchet said sharply, “I’m busy, get Knock Out in here!” He clamped a line closed.

“Knock Out is in no shape to treat anyone. He just witnessed Dreadwing forcibly torn from him _again,_ by a femme who-”

“I really don’t care what Knock Out saw at the moment!” Ratchet snapped, shooting Megatron a poisonous look. He could see the state Soundwave was in, the amount of energon he had lost was concerning; his already dim biolights were growing dimmer by the nano-cycle, and it was obvious he had just fallen under emergency shut down. Ratchet almost hesitated. There were two mechs that needed his help, two lives that hung in the balance, and he could only save one of them.

But he steeled himself, calling on his common sense. He was only one person, and with the amount of damage both of the patients had suffered, there was no possible way he could treat them both. That didn’t make it hurt less, but he made his next words easier to say.

“Starscream has suffered massive internal damage, if I hesitate for even a moment we will lose him! I can’t give both of them my attention! I understand that whatever happened out there may have been hard, but Knock Out is a medic! He will pull himself together and _do his job,_ or one of them will _die_! So you either need to make a choice between them or get him in here, _now_!”

Megatron recoiled, obviously not used to anyone other than Optimus shouting at him. He looked between Soundwave and Starscream, and for a small moment Ratchet almost expected to be told to leave Starscream for scrap.

“Go tell Knock Out to report to the medical bay, immediately!” Megatron all but snarled at one of the assisting Vehicons. “Drag him in here if you have to. _Go_!”

The Vehicon fled the room, transforming in order to drive down the hall rather than run. Megatron turned to lay Soundwave on a second medical berth, pulling spare monitors and lines toward him.

“Can you clamp a line?” Ratchet asked quickly before swearing under his breath. Starscream’s internals were a mess. His t-cog was warped, the result of being forced still as it had tried to change shape. His tank had twisted, closely resembling a crushed soda can after Miko had finished drinking from it. Lines had gotten tangled around it as it had shifted during transformation, and the flow of energon from it to his pump had gotten cut off. That did not even cover the kinked and cut lines and shorted wires that Ratchet had already started to repair.

“It would not be the first time.” Megatron rushed to grab the necessary tools.

“Stop the bleeding, then give him a line. If he loses anymore energon his spark could suffer permanent damage.”

Megatron did not respond.

By the time Knock Out was pulled into the medical bay, Megatron had already hooked Soundwave up to an energon line, and was in the process of attaching the last of the support cables. Ratchet was still untangling Starscream’s energon lines, but he could see the sports car out of the corner of his optics.

His optics were shimmering, and there were small glistening tracks of moisture that trailed down to his jaw. Ratchet hated that he had to call him in, and mentally told himself to make training the Vehicons to be emergency medics higher on his priority list. Megatron was right, Knock Out was not in shape to work. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice.

For all the pain he was in, Knock Out was making an admirable attempt at keeping himself together. He straightened his back and cleared his throat, and though his voice was thick, it was steady when he began.

“Give me a status re…port…” Ratchet knew the second Knock Out laid optics on Starscream.

“He’s alive, Knock Out,” He said hurriedly, “but he won’t be if I have to do your job too. I need your help, _Dreadwing_ needs your help. If Soundwave dies, we may never know where he and Wheeljack are. You’ve done this before, I know you have. You’re in pain, but you don’t have time to mourn, not when lives hang in the balance.”

There was an audible swallow, and Ratchet spared a single glance in his direction.

Agony was painfully apparent in Knock Out’s optics, and Ratchet did not have to imagine the fear he was feeling. Starscream seemed to be his friend. Ratchet had lost count of the number of times he had witnessed friends clinging to life in a medical berth.

Knock Out blinked and the fear was gone. He forcibly tore his gaze from Starscream and hurried to Soundwave’s side, face set with stony determination.

“I have him.” He grabbed the cables from Megatron and finished attaching them with steady servos. Tools rattled as he pulled them closer, and Ratchet heard heavy pede steps as Megatron stepped out of his way. A second monitor began to beep.

Ratchet went back to the tangled knot that was Starscream’s internals.

“Go check on Laserbeak.” He spoke to Megatron, knowing there was nothing more he could do. “We had to remove him. I think they took him to Starscream’s quarters. He was frantic when they took him.”

Megatron was silent for a moment before Ratchet heard him sigh through his vents.

“Let me know when you have finished. Both of you.” He moved to the door, and Ratchet listened for the soft slide of it closing behind him.

He took a breath, and carefully began to reposition Starscream’s tank.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“He lost a lot of energon…” Smokescreen murmured, following the line of glowing blue through the halls of the _Nemesis._

Optimus nodded quietly, his servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder as they walked. The Wrecker had not spoken since he had watched Wheeljack be carried away. His optics were distant, his field full of fear and despair. Optimus wished that he had been closer to him on the battle field. If he had been there, closer to his teammates, maybe they could have held on to Wheeljack together.

Bulkhead started slightly at the soft wave of regret that washed through Optimus’ field. Dim optics looked up, brows furrowed in worry as he met his leader’s gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“Nor was it yours, Bulkhead.” Optimus said gently.

Bulkhead looked down again, a long sigh escaping him, “I know…”

::We can still get him back.:: Bumblebee beeped from just behind them. ::They took the time to repair him and Dreadwing, I saw the welds. They need them alive. We still have time to find them.::

“We still don’t know where they are, Bee,” Bulkhead’s shoulders slumped further.

“We’ll figure it out.” Arcee nudged Smokescreen gently, drawing his attention away from the gruesome scene on the floor. Smokescreen met her optics, returning her soft reassuring smile with a small forced one of his own.

“Maybe it’s time we take a risk,” he looked up, talking to Optimus’ back. “Raf hasn’t been having any luck, maybe we just need to look for them ourselves. I mean, she came after you fast enough, maybe we could get her to come out again…”

Optimus sighed, long and heavy, and the plating along his back and shoulders shifted, tensing as he reluctantly accepted the truth.

“I had hoped it would not come to that…” his voice was soft, and the rest of his team felt their sparks ache for him. He wanted to keep them safe and away from Airachnid’s clutches. It had been his goal since the beginning of this nightmare, and now he was left with little choice but to put them in harm’s way.

“We know the risks, Optimus,” Arcee said gently, “We’re willing to take them.”

“Anything to get Jackie back.” Bulkhead’s voice was soft, but determined.

“It might be the only way…” Smokescreen added almost timidly.

“You may be right,” Optimus looked over his shoulder to properly address the younger mech. His optic ridges pulled together, optics brightening slightly. Slowly he came to a stop, his attention no longer focused on Smokescreen. “Bumblebee?”

Everyone turned around, curious and confused, to see that Bumblebee had stopped moments earlier. He stood in the middle of the hall, optics wide and locked on the screen of a console embedded in the ship’s wall. Doorwings stood straight out, and Optimus knew that if his mouth was visible, it would be hanging open.

::I…don’t think we’ll need to lure Airachnid or Silas out, sir…::

“Why do you think that?”

Bumblebee looked at him, one servo rising to point at the screen.

::Because I’m staring at the coordinates to their base.::

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The ground bridge opened just outside an old rundown factory building that sat at the edge of a young forest. It had been abandoned for years, but the arrivals could guess that it had once been a saw mill, if the forgotten piles of logs and mostly rotten woodchips were anything to go by. The trees that walled off the back side of the building where thin, but tall, and the ground was covered with brush and shrubbery.

Large sliding doors took up most of the front of the building. They were opened, pushed to the ends of their tracks, leaving a wide open room exposed to the prying optics of the Autobots and Decepticons who had come to rescue their friends.

It was too quickly realized that they were too late.

Light from the early morning sun lit up the room, spilling through the door and small windows that were set high up in the walls. All the equipment from the original business had been removed long ago, and the others could see, from the scrapes and scuffs and lack of dust, where MECHs equipment had stood instead.

The empty tables on the wide space of catwalk had been home to several large computers. Arcee found holes in the solid walls that could have been where large monitors had been anchored in place.

Small office like rooms seemed to have served as barracks. Tripline could see a few forgotten blankets and one thin pillow on the floor.

The scuffs on the floor suggested that the space had been used to construct something. Small scorch marks spoke of welding torches and hot metal, and large chips in the concrete revealed that heavy objects had been dropped in place.

But it was the discoveries in the back that stuck out the most.

Energon, long dried and reduced to stains, was splattered across the floor, and in some spots, up the walls. There were smaller spots dotted here and there, and Bulkhead, remembering the state of Wheeljack’s winglets, had a sickening feeling that he knew what they were from. He had to turn away when he found a shallow depression in the floor, the concrete cracked and buckled, streaked with chips of white paint.

Wheeljack had been attacked there, and the thought made Bulkhead’s tanks churn.

Lightyear swore softly under his breath, the sound whispering through the silent group, and knelt down several feet from where Bulkhead stood. More streaks of dried energon stained the ground, and chips of dark blue paint decorated the broken concrete. Lightyear slowly reached down and picked up several shards of broken metal. He looked up at Bumblebee, who was watching with tense and lowered doorwings.

“I think these are from a denta plate…”

Bumblebee shivered.

Across the room, under a covered hole in the ceiling that seemed to have served as a door into the building, Megatron stood, his optics focused downward.

Dark, almost black shards of glass had been lazily swept into a corner. Even more energon could be seen; stains in the forms of small droplets, as if the energon had been flicked from a blade. Pits had been melted into the floor; deep but small in diameter. Megatron did not need to guess what had caused them.

Optimus inhaled slowly, his gaze moving from person to person.

Tripline and Lightyear were murmuring softly to each other, both of them now standing near the pile of broken denta.

Bumblebee had moved to stand next to Bulkhead, one servo on his arm. Bulkhead was venting slowly, and as Optimus watched, he reached up to gently touch the comforting servo.

Arcee and Smokescreen stood together, slightly off to one side. Smokescreen’s doorwings were low, his optics dim as he stared at the caved in floor. After a moment, Arcee reached out and took his servo in hers. She squeezed gently, and Smokescreen pulled his gaze from the gruesome scene to meet her optics. He nodded once, his servo tightening around hers.

“What do we do now?”

Optimus looked back at Bulkhead, very aware of how everyone suddenly turned to him, waiting for his answer.

“We go back,” he said, voice calm and controlled, “and we develop a plan to search for our missing team members.”

“We will need to be more active about looking for them,” Megatron turned to face him, “Hiding behind monitors and waiting for a signal may no longer be the best option.”

“I know,” Optimus agreed, meeting Megatron’s optics. “I had hoped to avoid the dangers of an active search, as we do not know when or where Airachnid could attack, but I believe you are right. We may have to take that risk. But we will require a plan of action first.”

Megatron nodded once before addressing the others, “You all need to refuel. You are no use to anyone on an empty tank.”

“We will inform you when we are ready to mobilize.”

The group nodded in silent agreement.

Optimus touched his commlink.

“Requesting ground bridge…”

**=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=**

It was hard to tell exactly where the Insecticons had taken them. In fact, it was hard to remember what Airachnid had even said as they retreated, her voice lost among the screams of Insecticons and the sound of the still raging battle. Wherever it was, it was dark. It was dark, and it was cold, and if Wheeljack had been able to feel more than the painful numbness in his spark, he might have been angry that they were there.

But he barely noticed.

He was too busy remembering the way it had felt to swing his swords at Bulkhead, the way his spark clenched when the tips dragged through green plating, no matter how shallow. Bulkhead’s face, as he begged for Wheeljack to stay, to listen and let him help.

His spark squeezed again, and Wheeljack found himself pulling his knees tighter to his chest, the glow of his one working optic reflecting back at him as he stared at his legs. Beside him, Dreadwing closed his optics, a defeated sigh escaping his vents. Misery filled his field. Wheeljack got the impression that he was thinking similar thoughts about a certain red sports car.

Anger, strong but brief, flickered through him, at Airachnid, at Silas…and at himself.

He was a _Wrecker_ for Pits sake! And here he was, curled in the back of yet another abandoned building, waiting for orders because he was too weak to fight against a line of fragging code!

Concrete buckled under the side of his fist as he furiously slammed it against the wall. Several Insecticons jumped, issuing surprised hisses as their optical bands flashed brightly in the dark room. Dreadwing barely reacted, the slight opening of his optics the only indication that he had even noticed the outburst.

Wheeljack forced himself to breathe. That wasn’t going to help anything. He needed a plan; a real one.

Unfortunately, just running and testing his luck against the code was no longer an option. He was in too bad a shape to even hope to resist it now.

_Probably wouldn’t even make it out of scrambler range._ Wheeljack closed his optics, willing himself to think. After all that time with the Wreckers, and all that time being on his own, he had to have some kind of experience that could help him get out of this. He just needed to think, to focus…

The loud bang that the door made as it bounced off the wall of the building ripped him from his thoughts. The Insecticons all jumped, and Dreadwing gave a small start beside him.

“I am done arguing with you, Airachnid!” Silas stormed in, several large computers thrown over his shoulder. MECH agents swarmed in around his pedes, quickly getting to work turning the area into their new base of operation.

“They are my slaves!” Airachnid hissed, following close behind him, “I decide what happens to them!”

“No!” Silas set the computers down before turning to glare at her, “They are your trophies! Your symbols of _creative revenge_! You promised me soldiers, not broken piles of machinery! The deal was that I would give you resources in exchange for extra muscle. So far, you have _barely_ managed to hold up your end of the deal!”

“I have given you three code-bound slaves!”

“You have given me weak, stubborn, injured mechanisms! And I see only two!”

Airachnid hissed wordlessly, her optics flashing dangerously.

“I tried it your way,” Silas growled, not backing down. If anything, he moved closer, towering over the smaller femme, his optics boring into hers. “I entertained your need to inflict pain because my tasks were still being completed. Now, we’ve lost Soundwave, we’ve lost our base, and my plans have been delayed! I am not going to allow you to drag me farther behind!”

“You will never get your servos on Megatron this way.”

“If I had not let you waste valuable time and energon taming your _pets_ , I would have him already!” Silas turned away again, reaching for the technology he had dropped, “Wheeljack and Dreadwing are no longer any use to me alive. They will be much more useful as suits. The moment I have men ready to take their place, that is exactly what they will become!”

Purple optics narrowed, and for a tense moment, Airachnid said nothing. Slowly she took a step away from Silas, her optics still filled with rage.

“Very well, Silas.” Her voice was cold, sharper than a freshly whetting blade, and twice as treacherous, “We’ll try it your way. And when you fail, I will be here to pick up the pieces.” She turned on her heels and stormed from the room, disappearing around the corner.

An icy cold trickle of panic went down Wheeljack’s spinal strut. He didn’t need to look at Dreadwing to know that the large Seeker was feeling the same way he was.

Silas wanted to destroy them just as he had Breakdown. With the code in their system, with no choice but to obey the commands given, they had no way of fighting back. They would offline themselves if Silas told them to.

They were helpless. Utterly, completely, helpless.

_We’re goin’ to die…_

They needed help. But with no commlinks, no allies, and no way of getting free, they had no way of getting it.

_No…there’s one way…_

Wheeljack inhaled slowly, and though he was not a religious mech, he sent a quick prayer to Primus that what he was about to do worked. If it didn’t, if everything he had read was false, then he and Dreadwing were scrap.

The walls he had built around his spark, the mental and spiritual block he had put in place to keep Bulkhead safe, crumbled when he touched them, disappearing as if they had never existed.

He closed his optics, and reached out to his sparkmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I'm starting to get back into a writing schedule again, but I've started a second fic! So, this fic will (hopefully) be updated every other week now, instead of every week, so that I can get both fics on their own schedule and get updates up somewhat regularly. 
> 
> Thanks for understanding!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a few days late, but it's also a little longer than the other chapters, so it's a fair trade, right?
> 
> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, I always love hearing what you all think of the story!
> 
> Also, I added an extra tag, so be aware!

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

The soft and steady sounds of spark monitors filled the otherwise silent med bay.

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Several hours had passed since Soundwave had been rushed from the human military base. The attempted rescue mission had returned from the coordinates he had provided about half an hour ago.

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Starscream’s chest rose and fell as the life support helped him ventilate properly.

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Soundwave’s brainwaves spiked momentarily. Knock Out’s optics flicked to him, watching warily. The monitor flickered red before the readings evened out. Knock Out looked forward again.

He sat between the two patients, his stool settled close to the ends of their berths. Dull and distance optics were directed at the back wall; focusing on nothing. His back was to the door.

There was no telling how long he had been sitting there; lost in a fog of jumbled thoughts, fear, and anger. He wasn’t sure when he and Ratchet had finished working, and he wasn’t sure when he had finally kicked Ratchet out of the medical bay.

“I can stay,” the Autobot had said, “I can watch them so you can get some rest.”

Knock Out had refused. Shockwave needed help with the new code, and Knock Out needed to keep his mind occupied. He also couldn’t stand the pity he saw in the other medic’s optics.

It had taken a little time, and a fair amount of arguing, to convince Ratchet to leave. Deep down, Knock Out knew what the Autobot was doing. Leaving him alone, expecting him to work after everything was not a good idea. He knew he should be resting, that he should be anywhere _except_ the medical bay.

But the idea of going back to his berthroom, alone, and curling up on his big berth made for two, staring at the wall with the streaks of blue and red…it made him feel sick.

He needed to work. He needed this.

Of course, after hearing that the search had turned up nothing, after hearing that they had been too late, he was beginning to rethink his position. Curling up on the floor of his private wash racks sounded pretty nice at the moment…

The door slid open behind him. He gave no reaction. It was probably just Ratchet, coming to check up on him, or Megatron coming to see if Soundwave was awake. Both of them would do what they needed to do and leave. They didn’t need him to hold their servos while they looked at a monitor.

“Hey, Doc…”

Knock Out turned his head slightly; that was not the voice he had been expecting.

Bulkhead looked exhausted as he stepped into the room, allowing the door to shut behind him. Two cubes of energon were clutched in his servos. “Ratchet told me you were here.”

“Yes, because it’s extremely hard to guess where I, a medic, would be at.”

“I kinda thought you’d be in your room.” Bulkhead shrugged off the bitter sarcasm. It was missing half its usual bite anyway. He held up one of the cubes, “I brought you some energon.”

“I’m not hungry,” Knock Out faced forward again.

“Neither am I.” Bulkhead walked over to another stool, shuffling back as he awkwardly kicked it over to sit next to Knock Out. A few drops of energon fell from the cubes as they were jostled, splashing to the floor. They went ignored by both mechs. When he was satisfied with the placement of his new seat, Bulkhead sat down, still holding both cubes. He didn’t try to offer them again.

“Do you think Soundwave will wake up soon?”

“Hard to tell,” Knock Out glanced at the monitors again, “He seems to be trying to.”

Bulkhead nodded, “Is Starscream…?”

“He’ll live.”

Again, Bulkhead nodded. Silence fell between them, broken only by the monitors.

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

The stool creaked quietly as Bulkhead shifted, “So…you and Dreadwing?”

Knock Out looked down.

“Breakdown…Dreadwing…you have a type,” a tiny, strained smile tugged at Bulkhead’s mouth for less than a second.

“Big and blue…” Knock Out murmured in agreement, surprising both of them. He paused, his optics growing even more distant as he gave the observation more thought. Breakdown and Dreadwing; the big, blue bruiser; all sharp angles and bulky in build, and the big, blue Seeker; with smoother curves, and much more grace.

“Big and blue…” he repeated softly, because those really were the only physical traits they had in common.

_And dead._

Knock Out bit his glossa hard to keep from sobbing. Or maybe laughing hysterically. It was hard to tell what sound would come out of his mouth at the moment. Another bout of silence passed over them. Slowly, Knock Out reached over to take the second cube of energon. Bulkhead passed it to him without a word.

“Why are you here?” Knock Out forced himself to take a sip.

Bulkhead shrugged, “Thought you might need some company. And since Jackie’s the other one missing…”

“You thought I’d understand your pain, and that you’d understand mine?” Knock Out halfheartedly scoffed.

“Something like that.”

“And what about your fellow Autobots? Are they not being very comforting?”

“They’re busy. I told ‘Bee to go do his own thing.”

“How nice of you.”

Bulkhead looked down at his own cube, his digits shifting restlessly around it.

“Does it hurt?”

Knock Out paused briefly, “Does what hurt?” He took another sip from his cube.

“Losing a sparkmate…”

He nearly choked, the seemingly tasteless energon suddenly burning like acid on his glossa.

“What kind of question is that?” He snapped, quickly lowering the cube.

“I know you and Breakdown were…well, I heard some of the Vehicons talking and…” Bulkhead trailed off for a moment, “You hear a lot of different things about sparkbonds; what you can and can’t feel…so when you…I mean…can you…”

“Can you feel it when your sparkmate offlines?” Knock Out almost snarled, questioning the sanity of the mech beside him.

Bulkhead gave a small nod, not looking up from his cube.

Knock Out turned to glare at him, only for his anger to diffuse when he saw the hunch in the larger mech’s shoulders. Bulkhead refused to look at him, shrinking further into himself the longer Knock Out took to answer.

The glare in sharp red optics softened slightly as realization crept over him, “You and Wheeljack bonded.”

“About a week before he was taken…”

Knock Out looked back down at his own cube, one claw tracing along the rim.

“I hadn’t felt much from him that night. Once he and Dreadwing left with Airachnid, we closed the bond off.” He snorted dryly, “He knew I’d be worried. With Airachnid around, there was no telling what I would get from him. Anger mostly, but…” a short inhale, “And I did…feel anger, I mean. He must have stopped focusing on keeping the bond closed, got too lost in his emotions. I was here, sorting tools. I just felt…fury. Murderous fury. Then this…smug satisfaction.” A tiny, emotionless smile ghosted over his face.

“He was fine. He was okay. And then…fear. The worst fear I’d ever felt from him. And pain. And then…” Knock Out broke off abruptly. He squeezed his optics shut, forcing himself to breathe. There was a soft click as he reset his vocalizer. “The connection between you doesn’t break cleanly. It doesn’t snap neatly along some imaginary seam. It rips, and it tears, and as his energy dies it takes some of yours with it. His spark gutters and spasms, and you feel every panicked moment as it tries to keep spinning. And when it finally snuffs out, when he finally offlines, you go with him. The only difference between you and your sparkmate is that you come back, with half a spark and an empty void where he used to be.

So yes, Bulkhead,” Knock Out looked back up at his company. His optics were beginning to glisten, “You feel it. And it hurts.” He lifted his cube again, servo shaking.

“It’s the worst pain you’ll ever feel.”

He turned away again to sip at his energon, only now realizing that his energy levels were creeping into the red zone. The fuel slid down his throat without flavor, his glossa numb to any taste it may have had. For a single instant, he had the urge to throw it across the room; watch the cube shatter against the wall and see the energon splatter.

But he knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He would move on to the tools, so neatly organized across the tables, then the table themselves. They weren’t that hard to flip. If he threw the cube, the dam would break. Why should the room look so perfect while his life was being torn apart?

So he held himself back. It would be unbecoming for him to lose his mind in front of another bot. Not that he thought Bulkhead would care at the moment.

Bulkhead found himself unable to look up from his lap, lost in his own thoughts. Fear was slowly beginning to squeeze around his spark, causing it to spin and pound rapidly in its casing. A lump began to form in his throat. He cleared it quickly, his vocalizer clicking, but it refused to go away.

 _Is that what I have to look forward to?_ The thought came unbidden, and once he considered it, it refused to leave.

What would he be doing when Jackie’s spark gave out?

Would he be alone, cleaning weapons in preparation for another rescue attempt?

Would he be asleep?

Would Jackie reach out for him before he…before he…

The room tilted dangerously. Bulkhead felt dizzy. Was he venting enough? Too fast? Too slow? His temperature readings seemed normal, but that couldn’t possibly be right. He felt hot; he had to be overheating! But then…his digits were numb…

Thick plastic shattered. Energon splashed across his legs and dripped from his servos. Some of it felt too warm…

He opened the fist he had clenched, optics struggling to focus. Shards of the broken cube were stuck in his knuckle joints.

Movement. Something shifted next to him, and then Knock Out was in front of him, reaching for his injured servo.

“We almost bonded during the war,” Bulkhead blurted, his voice shaky, the words rushed. Talking was good; talking made his mind stop…

His other servo curled tightly around the edge of his stool. He felt sick, his tank churning uncomfortably.

“We talked about it, while we were in the Wreckers,” words spilled from his mouth; anything to keep himself from breaking down, “Talked about it a lot. But…” He shook his head, “too dangerous. Didn’t want to risk it. Decided to wait until after the war.”

“You did the exact opposite of what Breakdown and I did.” Knock Out said softly, “Don’t move.” He pulled away, reaching to a small tray of tools for a pair of forceps. Bulkhead closed his optics, forcing himself to breathe.

Knock Out took his servo again, carefully beginning to remove the pieces of the broken cube, “We originally decided to wait until after the war. Breakdown used to say it would be our way of celebrating.” There was that tiny smile again, “But time went on…we had one too many brushes with death…then we decided that we didn’t want to miss our chance. We could die at any time, why waste the opportunity?”

“How long were you bonded?”

The forceps paused. Knock Out tilted his head slightly, “A long time...we bonded near the end of the war on Cybertron, a few stellar cycles before we realized we might have to leave.”

Bulkhead nodded slightly. His gaze shifted up, toward the two mechs lying motionless on the medical berths.

“I keep telling myself that he’ll be okay. Jackie’s strong, and he’s smart…but…the longer it takes to get them back…”

“The harder it is to hope.” Knock Out finished for him, not looking up as he pulled a large shard out from his first digit. “I know.”

Bulkhead was quiet. Knock Out continued to work on his servo, his movements slower than usual, but steady. There was barely a wince from his patient as he worked.

When he picked up the catch tray and got to his pedes, Bulkhead stood from his stool.

“I should go get cleaned up,” he said quietly, optics on Soundwave. Knock Out didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking about. The same thoughts had occurred to him. “Just wanted to bring you some energon.”

“It was appreciated.” Knock Out said, his voice sincere. He sat back on his own stool, picking up said cube once more.

Bulkhead forced himself to turn away from the occupied berths. A small nod was given to Knock Out, and then he was heading for the door. Knock Out sipped from his cube, watching Starscream’s monitor.

“Knock Out?” Bulkhead paused just before the door, looking back toward the medic. When crimson optics shifted toward him, he continued, “I’m sorry about Breakdown. I didn’t like him, but I know you…well…he didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Knock Out looked toward the floor, “He didn’t…”

Bulkhead looked down, giving Knock Out a private moment before he stepped toward the door again. It slid open easily.

Pain struck him like a physical blow, blooming deep in his spark. Bulkhead gasped, one servo reaching out to grab the doorframe. His vision swam.

Dark. It was dark. What remained of his winglets ached horribly.

_No…I’m in the med bay…and I don’t have winglets…_

Red optical bands glowed in the darkness. There was a flash of purple.

Anger. Fear. So much fear…

_Bulkhead!_

That was definitely Wheeljack’s voice.

“Jackie!” Bulkhead couldn’t tell if he had spoken aloud or not; his voice seemed to echo all around him, into the strange darkness that had suddenly taken over.

The bond between them was open; the barriers that had been put up between them were gone, vanished as if they’d never been there in the first place. Everything Wheeljack had been trying to hide flooded through the connection. Bulkhead felt it all.

Physical and emotional pain, a medley of emotions…Wheeljack was alive, he was reaching out for him…

_Find us!_

“Where are you!?” Bulkhead blinked, and suddenly he was in a dimly room, leaning against a concrete wall. His ankle twinged, the makeshift splint holding it straight rubbed uncomfortably against his plating. Insecticons mingled across from him, their optical bands glowing brightly. He could see MECH agents working hard to piece together a computer system.

_He wants to kill us._

Wheeljack’s voice echoed across the bond. It sounded as if he were shouting from the end of a very long tunnel.

Bulkhead blinked again, trying to turn his head. The room grew blurry. For a moment, he thought he could hear someone shouting his name. It didn’t sound like Wheeljack…

_Have to find us, Bulkhead…Silas…lost his…Breakdown…_

Wheeljack’s voice grew weak, dissolving into nothing. The room spun, the details Bulkhead could see getting lost as the darkness overwhelmed everything.

“Wait! Jackie!” Bulkhead tried to move his arm, to reach out and grab something, anything to keep them connected.

_Hurry!_

“-ead!...-lkhead!... _Bulkhead!”_

Bulkhead’s optics flew open, and he flinched at the sudden bright lights above him. Knock Out hovered over him, optics flicking over his face as he tried to assess him.

When had he fallen on his back?

“Wh…what happened?” Bulkhead sat up, rubbing his head.

“You tell me,” Knock Out sat back, watching him carefully, “You yelled out Wheeljack’s name and then collapsed.”

“Wheeljack…” Bulkhead’s servo paused, “I…I saw…” he cut himself off, servo dropping to press against his chest.

 _There._ He could feel him. The pulsing of Wheeljack’s spark, beating alongside his own; the echo of fear and pain, not as vivid as it had been a few seconds ago, but still there.

“He opened the bond.” Bulkhead pressed his servo tighter to his chest, “He opened the bond and I saw…I heard…”

“You _saw?_ You _heard?_ ” Knock Out reached for his scanner, growing concerned, “What did you hear?”

Bulkhead looked up at him, optics wide, “We have to find them…”

**=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=**

The command room on the _Nemesis_ was an impressive room. It was a wide circular space, with large monitors stretching around the walls. They flickered and flashed, showing off vast amounts of important information; charts, measurements, extra maps, anything that could be needed when making critical decisions. There were no windows to show the sky outside the ship, leaving the room with the feeling that time no longer existed. The lights were aimed at the middle of the chamber, focusing all attention to the large, flat table that filled the space. It was capable of displaying any map that was loaded into it, and interacted with voice commands and simple hand gestures.

It was a serious space. No idle chatter to fill the silence. No one was admitted unless Megatron commanded it.

Many important decisions had been made in that room. It was here that Megatron had stood, servos planted on the edges of the holographic map, surveying the recorded remains of Cybertron, before giving the order to abandon the planet. It was here that Soundwave had presented his energon findings shortly after leaving Cybertron, declaring that there were very few planets in the ship’s proximity that could support the Decepticon soldiers on board. It was here that Starscream had, after finally deciphering Optimus’ message to the Autobots, commanded that Earth be their next stopping point. And it was here that Bulkhead and Knock Out ran to in order to share the information they had just received.

Optimus and Megatron had locked themselves in the moment they had returned from the failed rescue attempt. Agent Fowler and Raf had been asked to join them. The rest of the humans had followed, if only to stay in the loop. Optimus and Megatron had not seen the point in arguing.

“I can have a few teams up and ready to go as soon as we finish here,” Fowler stood on the edge of the table, looking over the glowing map of the country. “They can help with the search.”

“We should follow a grid system,” Optimus waved a servo over the map. Lines quickly moved across it, vertical and horizontal, separating it into a perfectly sectioned grid, “separate the country into quadrants, and send out teams to sweep each area.”

“Are you even sure they’re still in _this_ country?” Jack asked, “MECH attacked Breakdown in Russia before.”

“MECH didn’t have to feed an entire Hive of Insecticons and four Cybertronians before,” Megatron replied. The map zoomed in as he gestured over it, and rotated slightly when he drew his digit in a slow circle across the border, “They may have managed to find energon, but not enough to make a journey halfway around the planet.”

“Canada isn’t that far north,” Raf chipped in.

“I called customs already,” Fowler tapped his fingers against his leg, “no armored blue trucks will be crossing into Canada anytime soon.”

“Couldn’t the Insecticons carry him across?”

“Possible, but unlikely,” Megatron leaned over the table, “Breakdown had a very unique body design. Insecticons are strong, but they are not meant to carry such awkward shapes while in flight.” He pressed a button, highlighting the coordinates of every recorded MECH sighting since the Autobots had first encountered Silas. “We know where they were hiding before. There has to be a way to narrow down our search area.”

“The population is extremely dense along the coasts,” Optimus traced a digit along the mentioned areas. They dulled to a soft gray, “It would stand to reason that they would avoid them.”

“MECH’s always stuck to abandoned buildings,” Miko pointed out, “factories, mills, could we map those out?”

“Already did.” Raf rubbed at the back of his head, “It didn’t narrow anything down.”

“They would be looking for a place to hide quickly,” Megatron zoomed in on the map again, cutting off most of the eastern half of the country, “The base was here, on the western half. They wouldn’t waste time traveling far.”

“The mountains would provide caves,” Optimus pointed along the Rocky Mountain range, “but gaining power for MECH’s computers would be difficult.”

“It might work for a temporary shelter.” Megatron shifted closer to him so he could see his angle. The slight flinch in Optimus’ field did not go unnoticed. Megatron pushed it aside. Optimus’ continued awkwardness around him could be discussed later. Assuming he ever got him alone again.

“Optimus!” All seven of them turned to the door as Bulkhead and Knock Out barged in, “They’re in trouble!”

“We are aware of that.” Megatron said shortly.

“Worse trouble than we thought!” Bulkhead rushed forward, optics on Optimus, his expression almost pleading, “Wheeljack and I bonded. He’s been blocking me out ever since he got captured, but a few minutes ago, he opened the bond and I…it was like I could see what he saw. I could hear him yelling for me. He said…he said Silas wanted to kill them.”

“You… _saw_ what he was seeing?” June looked up at the large mechs above her, “Is that even possible?”

“Spark bonds are extremely deep connections between Cybertronians,” Optimus briefly glanced at her, “This is not unheard of.” He turned his attention back to Bulkhead. “What did you see?”

“Not a lot,” Bulkhead admitted, “It was dark, and I started losing him pretty fast. It was like trying to talk over a bad comm signal. He said Silas’ name, and he mentioned Breakdown for some reason.”

“Breakdown and Silas…”

Optimus and Megatron both stiffed, turning to look at each other.

Knock Out glanced between them. He swallowed, “You aren’t thinking…”

“We are.” Megatron confirmed grimly. “We need to find them. Now.”

“Are you thinking that Silas wants to…” Bulkhead trailed off when Optimus shifted his gaze back to him, the answer waiting in his optics. Bulkhead squeezed his optics shut before this room could start to spin too.

Megatron turned back to the map, his optics reading quickly over the land, “We need to narrow this down more.”

“We don’t have time!” Knock Out stepped forward, “We need to start looking for them!”

“We still do not know where to look,” Megatron ignored the fear in his voice, “we do not have time to waste looking in the wrong places.”

“Abandoned buildings, far from the public,” Optimus reached over the map, optics shifting quickly over the holographic landscapes, “Dense forests, empty mines, and small populations…” He reached forward, quickly drawing a circle around several states with his digit. “Here. This area best fits MECHs habits. It is not as precise as either of us wanted…”

“It will have to suffice for the time being.” Megatron turned away, moving to the far wall. He slammed his servo on the intercom button.

“All units report to the bridge!”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

He felt heavy and warm. The good kind of heavy and warm. The heavy and warm that came from a full tank and an oil bath. He felt…comfortable.

And he wasn’t in pain.

Soundwave opened his optics.

Life support cables hung down from the ceiling, pulsing gently as they worked to keep his vitals at a normal level. They reminded him of the cable that had attached to his neck. He didn’t like them, didn’t want them attached to him, didn’t want to look at them.

_They most likely kept you alive._

Soundwave forced down the disgust that was growing in his spark. These were medical cables; not instruments of torture. They were helpful, and probably necessary. Not to be feared.

He turned his head so he didn’t have to look at them any longer.

The _Nemesis_ medical bay was just as he remembered it; clean, quiet, maybe a little more organized, but only by a small margin. Medical-grade energon was stacked neatly on its shelf, tools were laid out on table tops, ready to be used; it was a comforting sight.

“Good, you’re awake,” a calm voice spoke up from his other side, drawing his attention away from the wall. A Vehicon was moving over to him, a datapad in his servos. “Knock Out said you might wake up while he was gone.”

Soundwave looked around the rest of the medical bay. Behind the Vehicon, Starscream was still asleep, looking as peaceful as a mech covered in weld lines and life support cables could look. He was the only other patient in the room.

“Sir, you shouldn’t try to sit up yet!” The Vehicon reached out, hesitating before touching Soundwave as he pushed himself into a sitting position. There was no pain at the movement, though he suspected the inhibitors he was being given had a lot to do with that. He stared at Starscream for a moment longer before sweeping his gaze over the other empty medical berths.

There must have been something in his optics; maybe he held himself too stiffly, maybe his field gave something away, but the Vehicon seemed to sense what he was looking for.

“We got your message, sir…but we weren’t able to move fast enough.” He moved to stand by Soundwave’s pedes, looking up at him, “Dreadwing and Wheeljack were gone by the time we got to the coordinates.”

Soundwave turned his attention back to his current physician, face expressionless.

“We’re still looking. The others just left on a scouting mission to try to find them. Knock Out left me in charge of you and Starscream…well, technically Ratchet is in charge, but since he’s in the lab with Shockwave…”

Soundwave stopped listening. A soft buzzing filled his audio receivers, drowning out the Vehicon as he went on to explain what Knock Out had repaired. The words ‘cable’ and ‘voice box’ drifted through, but Soundwave did not react.

He had not been fast enough, had not been _strong_ enough, to deliver his message.

Dreadwing and Wheeljack were still in danger, trapped in the clutches of Airachnid’s slave coding, pinned beneath Silas’ pede.

He had _failed._

The Vehicon was looking at his chart now, droning on about the plans to replace his mask. Soundwave barely heard him. All he could hear were the pained yells Dreadwing had let out while he was being beaten, and the horrible squeals and crunches that Wheeljack’s plating had made in the jaws of the Insecticon set upon him.

Airachnid had won. Maybe not the war, but this battle’s victory was going to her. And Dreadwing and Wheeljack were going to pay the price, all because Soundwave had not been able to properly relay a simple message.

“Laserbeak wants to see you,” the Vehicon was watching him again, “I figured I’d hold off on bringing him in until you were ready. Should I let him come by?”

Soundwave shook his head slightly. He didn’t want Laserbeak to see him like this.

The Vehicon nodded, “You should rest. I’ll be back in a cycle to check on Starscream.” He set the datapad down, giving the monitors one last look before leaving. The door slid shut behind him.

Digits curled against the medical berth, scraping lightly against the metal surface.

_I failed._

They were still in danger.

Airachnid still had them under her command.

_He hadn’t been strong enough._

Tools crashed to the floor as the small, mobile tool table that had been sitting neatly by the side of Soundwave’s berth hit the ground. The sound echoed in the quiet room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his audio receivers.

For a moment, Soundwave did not move. His arm remained outstretched, frozen in the air at the point it had impacted with the table. He closed his optics and remained in that position until the beeping of his spark monitor slowed to a normal rhythm. Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the medical berth, his arm dropping back to its place by his side.

Exhaustion swept over him suddenly, taking advantage of his moment of weakness. It smothered the rest of his anger, pulling him toward the sweet release of sleep.

For the first time in a long time, Soundwave didn’t fight its draw.

He fell asleep, grateful that no one had been there to see his moment of anger. As content as he could be with the knowledge that Megatron was out there, looking for those who were still missing.

And completely oblivious to the dim red optics that watched him, silent and curious, from the only other occupied berth.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

MECH agents moved quickly. As soon as Silas had given the order, they had set off in search for the medical equipment they would need to transfer two of their operatives into the Cybertronian slaves they still had. Much of it they already possessed; they couldn’t exactly go to city hospitals to treat the wounds they received on the job, so a well-stocked medical bay had been required. But there were still some things they needed; things that could not be relocated quickly, so were only acquired when the situation called for it.

Such as the heavy duty machinery necessary for transferring one life form into another.

It had only taken them a few hours to find the supplies, and by the time the sun began to set, the main room of the new base looked like a sick and sadistic doctor’s office, filled with saws and drills, needles and cables, and monitors set up to record both human and Cybertronian vitals.

The sight of it all made Kickback’s tank turn.

“How much time do they have left?” Shrapnel murmured, watching as several agents began setting up energon lines for later use.

“Not much,” Kickback replied softly, “Silas’ medics are nearing the end of their recharge cycle. They will be here before nightfall.” He inhaled softly, “I see no restraints…”

“They will not be needed,” Shrapnel lowered his head, “When the command is given, they will lie still…they will not even be able to give voice to their pain when the humans begin to cut into them…”

Kickback felt his plating pull tight against his protoform, the energon in his lines growing cold. How must the others feel, knowing that they were going to be killed? Knowing that there was nothing they could do to fight back?

Not for the first time, he wished that he could help. But there was nothing he or Shrapnel could do. Orders had been given, Airachnid was following along with Silas’ plan, and they had no choice but to follow Airachnid.

“Perhaps I was wrong to tell you to be patient…” Kickback looked at Shrapnel from the corner of his optical band. The fresh wound the blaster fire had left across his neck looked painfully raw, “If you had acted out when you had wanted-”

“I would be dead.” Shrapnel cut him off, his already rough voice made more gravelly by the new injury, “You were right. Even if we were able to prove to the others that we are being enslaved in the next few minutes, what would it change? Knowing the code is there does not disable its abilities. They would still have no choice but to allow this to happen. Just as we have no choice…”

Kickback sighed, “There has to be something we can-”

The door leading to the back of the base slid open, cutting off anything he was about to say.

“On your backs, in the center of the room.” Silas’ voice growled out.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing slowly walked into the room behind him, their pedes dragging as they tried their hardest to ignore the order. It had to have hurt; Kickback could see the flashes of pain that flickered across their faces, the tiniest hints of fear in their optics. But they were too injured, too weakened to fight back, and before long they were lowering themselves to the floor, stretched out on their backs to wait for their impending death.

“My engineers will be in shortly to get you prepped.” Silas told them. “You are to remain there. I want no tricks.” He looked up at Shrapnel and Kickback, his optics narrowing slightly, “Out. I don’t want you getting in the way.”

They had no other option. Kickback followed Shrapnel as he moved toward the main doors, turning his back to the terrible sight in the newly made surgical room.

“Airachnid could stop this.” Shrapnel said as soon as they were clear of the room, far from Silas’ earshot, “She was angry with him for suggesting this. Why is she allowing this to happen?”

“She does not care about their wellbeing,” Kickback was quiet, not fully focused on the conversation, “She wants revenge, just as he does. If this path leads to that revenge, why should she stop it?”

“I do not believe it is that simple…”

“Maybe it isn’t…but she is not going to stop it. And we cannot help them…” Kickback trailed off, thinking.

Shrapnel _was_ right; knowing the code was there did not make it any less powerful. But it _did_ give them the knowledge of when it was in effect, and what it could do. Knowing that it was there made it possible to fight it, as long as they were strong enough.

Maybe they _could_ do something…

Kickback looked at his companion, watching as he continued to walk, limping slightly. Shrapnel was injured more than he was. The shot he had taken to his throat while carrying Wheeljack earlier that morning had yet to be treated. And the other wounds he had sustained while fighting against that small two-wheeler on the Autobot side had similarly been ignored. Fighting against their code was going to take everything they had, and Shrapnel was not at his full strength. Not now.

_I will have to do this on my own…_

He stopped in his tracks, “There is something I must do.”

Shrapnel came to a halt, looking over his shoulder at him, “What is it?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Kickback, if you have a plan of action, I would like to help.”

“You are not up to the challenge. Not with your injuries. I must do this alone.”

Shrapnel turned to face him completely, “Kickback-“

“I know what I am doing, Shrapnel,” Kickback cut him off firmly before continuing in a more gentle tone, “You will be needed here. Trust me. And do not follow.”

There was silence as Shrapnel regarded him carefully, as if deciding if he wanted to argue or not. Kickback held his gaze firmly, holding himself tall as he attempted to show Shrapnel that he was confident in his decision. Finally, Shrapnel nodded; the motion slow and halfhearted.

“Be careful, brother…”

Kickback nodded to him once before turning away. Shrapnel hesitated for only a moment before continuing down the long hall. Kickback did not move until he could no longer hear his pede steps, watching as weak beams of light from the setting sun shone through the thin cracks of the boards that covered the windows.

When he was sure he was alone, that Shrapnel had not hidden behind a corner to follow him later, Kickback moved forward, beginning to retrace his steps and return to MECHs new room of death.

_How many commands will I be disobeying?_

He could not help ask himself. One; leave the room. Two; stay near the base so that no one will catch you. Three; the unspoken rule. The rule so important, yet so obvious that it had not needed to be spoken aloud; _do not interfere._

The code was not going to be happy with him. Disobeying one command was going to be bad enough, but three of them, including one as important as Rule Three… This was going to hurt. A lot. Kickback just had to hope he was strong enough to fight through it. He had to be.

Lived depended on it.

 _Soundwave was strong enough._ He told himself, _And Dreadwing would have been had he not been beaten. Wheeljack would have been if he had not been almost killed._

There was no time to question himself. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now, before time ran out.

Before the medics got to work.

The room was empty when he got back to it, devoid of all life except for the two mechs lying motionless on the floor.

Kickback pushed the door open slowly, hesitating before stepping inside.

How much was this going to hurt? How quickly would he have to start fighting?

He was going to have to find out soon…

Taking one last deep breath, walked through the door, quietly moving toward the center of the room.

An uncomfortable itching sensation bloomed deep inside of him. It was mild, almost as if it were serving as a warning.

_You are not supposed to be there. Go back._

Ignoring it was easy.

Dreadwing’s optics were closed, his body limp against the concrete floor. He almost appeared to be in recharge, except for the stiff way he held his jaw.

Wheeljack was tense, his fists clenched tightly by his sides and his optics staring unseeing at the ceiling. They flicked to Kickback when his large shadow fell over both of their bodies.

“I am going to help you,” Kickback murmured, trying to keep his voice low, “but it will hurt. Possibly more than anything has ever hurt you before.”

Dreadwing was watching him now. His optics were dull and numb, devoid of any emotion.

“My alternate mode is not made to carry large objects,” Kickback continued quickly. The itch was beginning to turn into a burn, and it was becoming more intense the longer he stayed in the room. “Wheeljack was one thing, but I can only move my legs so far in order to support both of you. You will need to hang on to me as tightly as you can. Do you understand?”

Wheeljack nodded immediately, his optics brightening with understanding. Dreadwing seemed to take a moment to process what was being said, but as Kickback watched, his optics began to glow with a sense of hope. He nodded once.

“It will be difficult. I do not know how badly this will hurt you. But if we succeed, you will be safe.”

Both of them nodded again, quick and unwavering. Kickback returned the gesture.

“Let’s go.”

He reached down quickly and grabbed them both by the upper arm. Pulling firmly, he hauled them up onto their pedes, holding them steady when they stumbled. It was not hard, they did not feel all that heavy to him, but they were unable to support themselves once they were up. Both of them winced immediately, and Kickback could only assume that they were being drawn back toward the floor where their last order had left them. No matter; carrying them outside would be easier than dragging them.

Pain in the form of a sharp ache one felt the day after a bad fight, began to grow along his back as he maneuvered the mechs under his arms. It wasn’t anything close to the agony he had anticipated, but Kickback assumed it would only get worse. Time was not on their side. They had to move, immediately.

So he ran.

The doors he had come through splintered under his weight as he shouldered through them, doing his best to shield Dreadwing from the bits of debris that blew back from the impact. On his other side, Wheeljack suddenly gripped his arm, his dull, rounded digits pulling at the edges of his armor. If that, plus the twisted expression on Dreadwing’s face, was anything to go by, the code was striking out at them _hard._

Kickback turned his attention forward. He did not have time to monitor their wellbeing. As long as they were capable of hanging on during flight, everything would work out in the end.

Heavy pede steps echoed through the empty hall as he ran, every sensor on high alert for any indication that someone had spotted them. Luckily, the rest of his Hive seemed to be staying in the inner rooms, where the dark and cooler atmosphere reminded them the most of their underground burrows, and the rest of the MECH agents were too busy getting ready for surgery.

The pain in his back was beginning to grow, spreading down toward his legs and causing his head to ache. Denta ground together audible as he forced himself to ignore it.

Instead he kept his focus on the front door, which was growing ever closer. Fresh air wafted in from under it, teasing his olfactory sensors.

Close…they were close…they would get outside, and then all he had to do was run, run until he could transform and fly, and then he would find a way to contact Megatron, and they would be safe, far from Airachnid and Silas and Mech. He just had to get to outside…he just had to reach the door!

Pain gripped his legs like a vice, racing up and down his cables and lines. The joints in his knees froze momentarily, causing him to stumble hard into the wall to stop himself from falling flat on his face. A low growl began to grow in his chest.

This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t allow himself to be stopped; not here, not now.

Dreadwing’s sharp digits clawed into his side. Kickback invented hard, flaring his plating to allow the cooler air to reach under the thick metal.

_Fight it. You have to fight it!_

Joints whined as he forced one leg forward. The step he took was slow, clumsy, and stiff, but it was something. One step turned to two, and then to three, then four, and then he was pushing himself out the door, arms tightening around Dreadwing and Wheeljack as they began to squirm in silent agony.

“Hang on,” His voice was raspy as he forced himself to speak, resisting the urge to howl as every joint in his body began to throb. Pain shot up his legs, over his back, and down his arms. It felt as if his plating were beginning to crawl over his body. Fans clicked on as heat began to build, his vents flared wide open. It was hard not to pant.

“Hang on…” Stopping now was not an option. They had to get further away before someone saw.

It felt as if his hips were going to pop; his legs tried to remain stiff and unmoving, hobbling him so he could not run.

Kickback bit his glossa to distract himself from the pain, and pushed forward.

His run looked more like a fast limp, but it got the job done. Overgrown grass gave way to a dense forest, and before long, Kickback was in a small space, out of sight of the building, where he could transform.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing hit the ground when he dropped them, his arms stiff and unwilling to cooperate when he attempted to put them down gently.

_Go back, go back, go back._

Kickback gripped at his head. It felt like it was pulsing under his palms. Pain worse than any headache he had ever had before filled his processor. Static filled his vision.

_Do not give in now…you cannot give in now!_

The pain turned to agony as plating began to shift. Internal components moved and reoriented in his chassis, pressing closer together to make room for the extra movement as his t-cog pushed his body through the transformation sequence.

His wings beat the air, the loud drone they made filling the forest as he hovered just off the ground.

Wheeljack gripped at one of his legs with all the strength he had. His arm shook, and he was gritting his denta together so hard Kickback could see sparks flying in his mouth, but the Wrecker’s grip did not falter.

Dreadwing had to force his servos off the ground, away from the furrows his digits were currently carving into the dirt. Sharp digits pricked at Kickback’s plating as the Seeker clung to his leg as tightly as he could.

Kickback curled his legs in close, doing his best to cradle the mechs against his underbelly, and forced himself up.

His tanks rolled. Static filled his vision. A harsh, unrelenting ringing sound filled his audio receivers. The farther he flew from the base, the worse it got.

 _This is how Soundwave suffered._ His mind whispered, _This is what he felt for days on end._

Kickback would never again question the strength of non-Insecticon Cybertronians.

He couldn’t question anything at the moment. All his attention was given to flight, to making sure he stayed conscious and in the air. He had no idea how far he had to go, and no idea how he was going to get Megatron’s attention, but he knew he could not afford to falter now. If he did, if he lost control of himself for even a moment, all three of them were dead.

That fear was the only thing that helped him fight through the pain.

After five miles, his HUD began to ping him with warnings of overheating.

After ten, he was unable to feel the grips of the mechs under him, his legs going numb to anything but the spark wrenching pain that coursed through him.

After twenty, it felt like his plating was being torn from his protoform. Like an invisible force was twisting and tearing at everything he was. He was bleeding from a thousand unseen wounds, suffering from a thousand non-existent injuries.

After forty, his wings froze. Dreadwing clawed sharply at his underbelly as they all fell three-hundred feet straight down. The static in his vision gave way to blackness, and there was a single moment where nothing hurt.

Wheeljack’s fist colliding with his face, just beneath his optical band, brought him back to his senses. He jolted, forcing his wings to beat just enough to keep them from dying in a horrible impact with the ground.

They landed hard. Kickback dropped them just before he hit the earth so that he would not crush them beneath his weight. All three of them bounced and rolled for several feet before coming to a stop. Kickback transformed to his bipedal mode, pushing himself shakily up to his servos and knees, and looked up to check on the other two mechs.

Both of them were motionless. Energon was slowly beginning to pool beneath their bodies from several split welds.

 _No…_ Kickback crawled toward them, his movements clumsy. Static continued to cloud his vision, making it hard to coordinate.

They still had a pulse. He could hear their sparks beating erratically the closer he got to them.

He had to keep moving. They were not far enough away. But oh how moving _hurt!_ It took all his strength to climb to his pedes, and when he bent forward to grab their arms, a wave of agony washed over him so quickly he had to check to see if his spinal strut was still intact.

_Airachnid can find you._

That thought chilled him to his core. With trembling servos, he grabbed Wheeljack and Dreadwing around the wrist, and step by painful step, began dragging them across the dirt.

It was all he could do; and they had to keep moving.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Lord Megatron!”

The call from the _Nemesis_ was laced with urgency.

“What is it?” Megatron continued to watch the earth below as he flew across his section of land. The sky was beginning to darken, and the first few stars could be seen as the sunlight faded away.

“The computers just picked up spark signals!” The Vehicon sounded as if he were struggling not to yell over the comms, “It’s Dreadwing, sir! Dreadwing and Wheeljack!”

Megatron felt his spark begin to pound in his chest, “Bridge us back, now! And get the coordinates ready!”

“Yes sir!”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The portal opened over a large area of grassy flat land. Megatron and Optimus ran through first, followed quickly by the rest of the Autobots, sans Ratchet, and Knock Out. The sight that greeted them froze them all in their tracks.

Wheeljack and Dreadwing lay motionless on their backs, their optics closed. Trails of energon outlined the path they had followed as they were pulled along the ground. Between them, an Insecticon was flat on its stomach, face down in the dirt. Its entire body was trembling, plating flaring out before pressing tight against its body again. Sharp claws were digging deep furrows in the grassing, ripping up dirt with each pass.

“Jackie!” Bulkhead’s loud shout broke the spell, and he dashed forward without a second thought. Knock Out did not cry out, but he sprinted from the ground bridge, falling to his knees at Dreadwing’s side. Bulkhead immediately scooped Wheeljack into his arms, holding him close as he pressed his audio receiver against his chest. Knock Out pressed two digits against the side of Dreadwing’s neck.

“He’s alive…” His voice shook, though he tried to control it, “He’s alive…”

“ _They’re_ alive.” Bulkhead turned his head to bury his face against Wheeljack’s neck, his arms tightening around his body.

“They need medical attention,” Optimus said, his voice gentle, “We need to get them back to the _Nemesis_ before they lose anymore energon.”

Bumblebee and Smokescreen hurried over to Knock Out, ready to help him carry Dreadwing back through the portal.

“Help…them…” Everyone froze again, all optics turning to the Insecticon as the sound of its weak, tortured voice. Slowly, oh so slowly, it lifted its head. “Must…keep…moving…”

It didn’t seem to see them; not at first.

“You are injured,” Optimus moved forward warily, shaking off Megatron’s servo when he attempted to stop him. Carefully he lowered himself to kneel in front of the Insecticon, “Wheeljack and Dreadwing are safe.”

“Not…safe…Airachnid can…safe…” The dim light behind the optical band brightened slightly, “Safe…” The Insecticon pushed itself up by a small margin, obviously focusing on Optimus’ face. “Optimus…Prime…” Its gaze moved passed him, over his shoulder, “Megatron…”

“Easy.” Megatron stepped forward, obviously seeing no threat in such a weakened being, “What happened?”

“I…they were…” The Insecticon dropped its face back into the dirt with a loud _thwump._ There was a beat of silence, and then a deafening, agonized screech filled the air. Optimus and Megatron jumped back as everyone else quickly covered their audio receivers.

“Silas was going to kill them.” As quickly as it had started, the screeching stopped, and the Insecticon was looking up at them again. Its voice was rough and strained, and it spoke quickly, but it seemed to have a clearer head, and kept a tight grip on its coherency. “Airachnid was allowing it to happen. Controlling them…us…with coding…” It grit its denta fiercely, “Couldn’t let him do…what he did to…Breakdown…”

“You saved their lives…” Optimus said softly.

“Yes!” The Insecticon gasped, “Hurts…disobeyed orders… _hurts!”_

“We can help you. We are working on a cure-“

“No time…too much…need to tell…the others about…” The Insecticon snarled. As they watched, it forced itself onto its knees. “Must…go back…Shrapnel needs to…”

“Tell us where you are.” Megatron grabbed its shoulders, attempting to keep its attention, “We need to find Airachnid, and Silas. They must be stopped!”

The Insecticon nodded quickly, obviously agreeing with him, “Flew from…many miles…by a…a…” It screeched again, pushing Megatron away as the pain took over once again. Before they could stop it, the Insecticon was jumping back from them, away from their reaching servos. It transformed quickly and took to the air with a wild scream before flying away from them as fast as it could.

Megatron stood, ready to give chase, but stopped when Optimus grabbed his arm.

The Prime shook his head, “It is not safe…”

A low growl escaped the warlord, but he nodded just the same. “I know.”

“I think he’s waking up!” Bulkhead called out, shifting so he was no longer crushing Wheeljack to his chest. The smaller Wrecker was indeed beginning to stir, his digits twitching. His optics began to open, and he winced as they began to focus on his surroundings.

“Jackie,” Bulkhead gave a small smile, “You’re safe, it’s alright…”

Wheeljack blinked, a slow smile beginning to pull at his mouth.

Then he stiffened, his back going ramrod straight so suddenly Optimus was worried he had broken something. One servo closed tightly around Bulkhead’s shoulder, denting the plating there as Wheeljack gripped with all his strength. His body convulsed, seized with pain, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream.

“Jackie!” Bulkhead yelled in alarm,

“Get him to the medical bay!” Optimus ordered, moving forward to help. Bulkhead stood up, still holding tight to his sparkmate, and ran back through the portal.

“Help me with Dreadwing!” Knock Out moved to grab under his arms as Bumblebee and Smokescreen reached for his legs.

“This will be faster.” Megatron stepped forward, quickly scooping Dreadwing into his arms. “Let’s get them both settled, before Dreadwing wakes up.”

He charged through the bridge, Knock Out hot on his heels.

“What was that?” Arcee looked up at Optimus, her optics wide in alarm.

“That,” Optimus said grimly, his optics on the swirling vortex, “was the slave coding controlling a disobedient host.”

Smokescreen glanced at the energon glowing in the grass, swallowing quietly before meeting Bumblebee’s gaze. They both had the same fearful look in their optics.

“What do we do?”

Optimus looked at them, his gaze giving nothing away. He had no words of reassurance for them, no advice to ease their worries. So he told them the truth.

“We hope that Ratchet and Shockwave are able to finish what they started.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Returning to the base did little to alleviate the pain.

Kickback landed hard, just outside the doors, and was immediately surrounded by the Hive. Shrapnel was at his side in an instant.

“What did you do!?”

Kickback could not keep himself on his pedes. He fell to his knees, “Saved…lives…stopped…Silas…”

Shrapnel was looking at him in horror, his field buzzing with fear, “Kickback…you cannot be here! You cannot stay here with-“

“Get away from him!” Airachnid’s voice, colder than the artic, sharper than any knife, cut through the concerned buzzing of the Hive. Shrapnel looked up at her, already feeling the code as it urged him to obey. He forced himself to ignore it, hunching over Kickback’s head in defense, though the position was obviously one of scared submission. A few other Insecticons attempted to stay close, confused and worried about Kickback’s health.

“ _Now.”_ Airachnid all but snarled. Something inside Shrapnel twinged harshly. He drew back slowly, as did those that had remained.

Airachnid walked forward, stopping just in front of Kickback. “Look at me.”

Kickback shakily raised his head, a small relieved whine escaping him as the action provided a few cherished seconds of relief.

“You gave them back to Megatron, didn’t you?”

“Yes…” Kickback did not have the strength to lie to her.

“You disobeyed me.” Airachnid hissed, “And you lost me my slaves!”

“Yes…” Kickback repeated softly.

Airachnid drew herself up to her full height, casting a slow glance around the rest of the Hive. “Take a good look at him, all of you. He is an example of what happens to those who disobey their Queen. I have provided you with energon, with shelter, and opportunities for you to destroy anything in your path. All I asked for in return was your loyalty.”

Shrapnel tried to meet Kickback’s optics, his spark pounding with fear. Kickback shakily met his gaze. His mandibles twitched slightly; the closest thing to a smile he could give.

Content. He was content with himself.

“Those who disobey are punished.” Airachnid continued. “Those who betray me must pay a price.”

The sounds her blades made as they unfolded echoed sharply around the circle of Insecticons. Several of them let out disbelieving sounds, twitching as if they wanted to stop her. Shrapnel didn’t see the looks of confusion on their faces as _something_ stopped _them_. He could not bring himself to look away from Kickback.

“You brought this on yourself.” Airachnid said coldly, one blade pressing under Kickback’s chin, forcing him to look up at her. “Let this be a warning to all of you!”

Two blades came up, pausing in the air for what felt like an eternity. Moonlight shimmered off the flat surfaces, shining brilliantly off the sharp edges.

They swung down.

Kickback’s throat split open, cut tubes and cables spilling from the wide gash. Energon sprayed out, splashing Airachnid’s legs before coating the ground and dripping down his chest. Kickback reared back, a sick, gurgling sound bubbled from his throat. His optical band flared in instinctual panic.

Airachnid stared down at him, her optics cold and unforgiving, until the red light dimmed to nothing.

Kickback fell forward, hitting the ground as dead weight. His body twitched once, twice, and then was still.

Silence filled the gathered Hive, even the sounds of their vents had stopped.

Somewhere in the forest, a single crow cawed into the night.

Airachnid looked at Shrapnel, a tiny, almost unnoticeable smirk curling her lips.

“Clean that up.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!  
> I'm so sorry this took so long. There were some personal issues, and then finals came around...it was a mess.  
> But! I've returned! And I hope to get a lot more writing done over the winter break!  
> Enjoy!

“We had to put them both in stasis, to manage the pain.”

Ratchet’s voice, soft as he filled Optimus in on the situation, still seemed to carry through the medical bay.

Or maybe it wasn’t his voice. Maybe it was just the fact that Bulkhead had become hyper focused whenever the medic began to speak now.

“It’s still affecting them. The damage has slowed, but their systems are still running too hot. It seems like the code is trying to force them awake.”

Bulkhead squeezed Wheeljack’s servo, not looking away from his face.

“Will the stasis hold?” Optimus’ voice _did_ carry. The deep tone was hard to hide.

“…For now.”

Bulkhead swallowed, shifting his gaze just slightly up and over Wheeljack’s berth.

Knock Out sat one berth over, both servos clasped around one of Dreadwing’s. He was holding it to his face, his lips pressed gently against Dreadwing’s knuckles. His optics left Dreadwing’s face, sweeping up to the monitors he was attached too. They didn’t linger long. Knock Out closed his optics and held Dreadwing’s servo a little tighter.

Bulkhead looked back down.

“How long before it won’t?” Megatron almost seemed to be murmuring.

There was a beat of heavy silence, broken only by the steady beeping of four monitors.

“The sooner Shockwave and I finish our work on the Cure Code, the better.”

Bulkhead swallowed again, trying to force the lump in his throat to disappear, “Why is Soundwave okay?”

He could hear the three mechs in the doorway shift to look at him. Knock Out opened his optics slowly, his gaze flicking up to Bulkhead before moving to Megatron, obviously wondering the same thing.

“Soundwave’s last order was to transfer the slave coding into one of us.”

Bulkhead had to be having another panic attack. Or maybe he was dreaming, or suffering head trauma. There was no way _Megatron_ actually sounded… _apologetic_.

“He destroyed the communicator that allowed Airachnid to reach him before attempting to transfer the code into me.”

“As far as the code is concerned, Soundwave did his job,” Ratchet sighed, “Airachnid is no longer able to give him orders. So the code is dormant. For now.”

“Wheeljack, Dreadwing, and their Insecticon rescuer were all in pain when we found them. It would stand to reason that they were all under orders to stay on base unless told otherwise. When they left…”

“We know…” Knock Out almost whispered, his optics closing once more. Bulkhead held Wheeljack’s servo a little tighter.

“I need to get back to Shockwave,” Ratchet was obviously addressing Optimus and Megatron again, “A team of Vehicons will be coming back to check on them while I’m gone.”

Bulkhead looked at Knock Out again, expecting him to say something, to snap that he was still capable of doing his job. But he said nothing. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard what Ratchet had said.

“Let us know when you are ready to run another test.” The medical bay door slid open, “Agent Fowler has requested that I assist him in informing General Bryce about the situation.”

Their voices were getting softer. The conversation seemed to fade away as Bulkhead lost himself in his thoughts.

_He was in so much pain…_

His free servo slowly moved to press against his own chest, resting just over his spark. The bond was still open, but he could feel nothing from it. Nothing but the feeling of life; which in itself was a comfort. No more pain, no more fear, just the undiluted sensation of _Wheeljack._

Everything he had felt before was gone, everything he had _seen…_

His thoughts came to a grinding halt.

He had _seen._

“Ratchet,” Bulkhead turned on his stool. The three mechs all paused in the doorway, looking back at him. “Before we found them, before we went looking, Wheeljack opened the bond again. I could _see_ was he was seeing. I could hear his thoughts. It was like we were talking over the comm system. I’d never heard of that before…”

“Our sparks are our very _being,_ Bulkhead,” Optimus said gently, “Our souls in physical form. When we bond with another, we share a part of our soul, and a part of their soul is shared with us. Connections are made, many of which are stronger than we may know, and deeper than we could ever see.”

“The connections that form after a spark bonding link us together through our subconscious.” Ratchet continued, “That’s why we are aware of our partner’s emotions after a spark bond, and why we feel it when they offline. Our subconscious never stops working. When something disrupts it, we feel it.

What you experienced is a fairly rare phenomenon.” Ratchet set his servos on his hips, his optics thoughtful, “It’s mostly seen in spark twins; like Dreadwing and Skyquake. But…there have been a few reported cases of bonded couples sharing thoughts and experiences…usually when one or both of them were in recharge.”

Bulkhead turned to look at Wheeljack again, “When it happened, when the bond opened, it knocked me out almost immediately. I hadn’t even realized it until I woke up on the floor here…”

Ratchet gave a slow nod, “Our subconscious mind is more active during recharge, when our conscious mind is not blocking it out. It allows the connection between bonded couples to become more open, more easily accessed.”

Optimus inclined his head, “When Wheeljack opened the bond between you, he may have only intended to share his fear, to press upon you the urgency of the situation. But his spark took the chance to _show_ you the danger he was in. You fell unconscious because your mind needed to be refocused _inward._ ”

Bulkhead swallowed and gently squeezed Wheeljack’s servo, “It felt…amazing. I mean, underneath the fear from the situation, it felt like we were in the middle of bonding again. It felt like we were one person…” He looked back up, his optics flicking from Optimus to Ratchet, “Do you think we’ll ever be able to do that again?”

“A spark bond is just that, Bulkhead, a _bond,_ ” Optimus gave a small, soft smile, “and like any other bond, it can be strengthened with time.” He turned slightly back toward the door, “You should allow yourself to rest, Wheeljack would not want to see you exhaust yourself.”

Bulkhead nodded, his attention returning to his partner as the others turned once more to leave.

“There is no proof that what he experienced can be repeated.” Ratchet said as soon as the door slid shut behind them, “The fact that it happened at all is a miracle.”

“Let him hope, Ratchet,” Optimus said gently, “He needs it.”

Ratchet glanced back at the door before sighing and nodding, “He and Knock Out both…”

They continued down the hall in contemplative silence, each mech lost in his own thoughts.

“How long will your meeting with the human General take?” Megatron asked, looking at Optimus.

“General Bryce has asked that we inform him of everything that has happened. He will need reassurance that we have the situation well in hand.” Optimus met his optics, “I believe it is safe to say that this meeting will take most of the night.”

The three of them came to a stop at the halls four way intersection. Megatron watched Optimus for a moment, his optics unreadable.

“Then I will see you in the morning.” His voice was stiff, just a little too curt. He nodded slightly at Ratchet before turning down the left hallway, his legs as stiff as his tone.

“You’re avoiding him.” Ratchet said, watching as Megatron turned the corner at the end of the hall and disappeared.

“I am giving him space,” Optimus corrected, not looking away from the place Megatron had vanished, “Given the circumstances, with each of us carrying Shockwave’s codes, I do not believe he wants me to linger too closely.”

Ratchet looked up at him, one optic ridge raised. Optimus did not return his gaze.

“Whatever you call it, he’s not happy with it.” Ratchet turned to the right, preparing to head for Shockwave’s lab, “And neither are you.”

That must have gotten Optimus’ attention. Ratchet could hear the slight shifting of his armor as he turned toward him.

“Good luck with General Bryce, Optimus.” Ratchet patted his arm once, “I will call if any progress is made while you’re gone.”

Optimus nodded as Ratchet began to walk away, “Thank you, old friend.”

He looked back down the other hall, optics wandering to the corner Megatron had disappeared around. For a moment, he did not move; his optics were guarded, and his body shifted as if it could not decide which direction it wanted to go in.

Finally, with an almost inaudible sigh, he tore his gaze away and continued down the main hall, preparing himself for a long talk with General Bryce.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

_Beep…be-beep…beep…_

Something sounded different.

_Beep…be-beep…beep…_

There. The sound, the monitors, something was off.

_Beep…be-beep…beep…_

Soundwave opened his optics.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up again.”

He recognized that voice. No matter how tired, how rough, how torn apart and _raw_ that voice sounded, he would _always_ recognize that voice.

“You’ve just missed Knock Out. He and Bulkhead were called away a few moments ago.”

Soundwave turned his head to the left.

Starscream was watching him. The crest on his head was still bent and out of shape, but all his joints had been bent back into their proper positions. Soundwave could see a brace on one of his ankles. A hazy memory of the now splinted pede being twisted to one side surfaced in his mind for split second. There was a heavier brace on Starscream’s elbow. Weld lines, thick and dull against the normally shined chassis, crisscrossed his armor, leaving behind a map of the cuts Ratchet had been required to make as he fought to save the Seekers life.

He looked so different from the image Soundwave had seen before. The Starscream his mind had created had been at the peak of health, radiating strength and readiness.

The only thing that the hallucination and the real thing had in common now was their optics. Starscream’s bright red optics were clear and focused. They looked almost out of place on a body so broken.

Though, Soundwave highly doubted that he looked much better. Knock Out had repaired the more serious injuries, but some wounds, like the carvings, had been left for a later time. Pair that with his lack of paint, and chipped, pitted, and scratched armor, and Soundwave was sure he looked like something out of an old horror movie.

“It’s been a long time since I was able to see under your mask.” Starscream raised an optic ridge slightly, “I see Airachnid left nothing unscathed.”

Soundwave resisted the urge to touch his face, or look away from the Seeker. The scratches the glass from his mask had made around his left optic were still healing, the process slowed from the lack of fuel and exhaustion. He was almost certain that the wounds left by Airachnid’s claws would scar.

It felt strange, looking at Starscream without his visor between them. The sad remains that had survived his capture had been removed, as had the frame that had attached to his helm, leaving his face completely exposed. Soundwave wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had gone without it.

“Laserbeak is well. He healed from his injuries.” Starscream was watching him carefully, “He’s very eager to see you.”

_Laserbeak wants to see you._

The Vehicon from earlier had told him that. But Soundwave had been so distracted, so consumed by the thought of his failure, that the implications of that simple statement had been lost on him.

_Laserbeak is well._

Laserbeak was alive. Airachnid _had_ been lying. Here was the mech she had said was dead, resting beside him, telling him with his own voice.

_Laserbeak was alive._

Relief flooded through his spark. For a moment, Soundwave felt weak at the knees, and was grateful that he was on a berth. Laserbeak was alive, and he was healthy. Whole. _Safe._

Soundwave closed his optics, allowing himself to bask in the moment.

_Beep…be-beep…beep…_

He sat up quickly, the relief ebbing slightly as he remembered why he had woken in the first place. He turned his head so he could see behind his own berth.

Two more berths had been prepped, the monitors beside them glowing and beeping steadily. He could see the edge of blue shoulders, the side of one white leg.

“They came in a cycle or so after you fell back into recharge.” Starscream told him, knowing exactly what, or _who,_ he was looking at, “You managed to sleep through the racket.” He turned his head, his gaze moving to the ceiling, “I never would have guessed you were a heavy sleeper. Unfortunately, I am not.”

The last comment was almost lost on Soundwave; his relief swelled again, washing over him like a blanket, warm and welcomed. His mind was beginning to buzz with the feeling.

They were safe. He wasn’t sure how the others had found them, or how they had gotten Dreadwing and Wheeljack away from Airachnid, but they had. They were _safe._ Airachnid could no longer hurt them.

A spiking brainwave on Dreadwing’s monitor cut through Soundwave’s happiness, sending a chill down his spinal strut. He knew what that particular spike meant.

Pain.

Dreadwing and Wheeljack were still in pain.

Whatever order they had been given, whatever command they had heard, it was still active. The code was still tearing them apart from the inside out.

He faced forward again, more slowly this time.

Would he feel that pain again? He had completed Airachnid’s last command, but the code had always been so tuned to her; to her presence, to her voice. Would being away from her for too long cause the code to turn on him again?

_You will never be rid of me, Soundwave. Even if you escape, that coding will always be with you. It will forever burn inside you, torturing you for every disobeyed order, reminding you who you belong to._

_No. I fulfilled my orders._ Soundwave looked down at his servos as he fought to silence Airachnid’s voice, _I attempted the transfer. I obeyed._

His optics widened slightly, the movement almost unnoticeable. The transfer had failed. Because Megatron had already possessed the coding.

Soundwave shot back up.

“He asked for it.” Starscream’s voice caught him off guard, pulling his attention back to the former SIC. Starscream looked at him again.

“Megatron. He asked for the code to be given to him.”

Soundwave wasn’t sure how Starscream had known that he was thinking about that, but he found that at the moment, he didn’t care. As long as he got an answer to his questions.

“You’ve missed quite a lot,” Starscream told him. He shifted on his berth, wincing slightly. “I’m sure Megatron will be happy to bring you up to speed.”

But Megatron wasn’t there. Not now. And Soundwave found that, in that moment, in the medical bay, with two mechs in silent agony and more than a month of captivity and torture behind him, he did not have the patience to wait.

He continued to stare at Starscream, his gaze never wavering. Personally, he felt as if the action lacked a certain air without his visor blocking his face, but nevertheless, Starscream got the hint.

“Very well. But do not interrupt me. It’s a long story, and I’m rather exhausted.”

Soundwave didn’t even blink. Starscream took in a slow breath.

“Where should I begin…?”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Dried energon was surprisingly difficult to remove.

Earth’s main cleanser, _water,_ just didn’t seem to do the trick. Without the proper chemicals, cleaning the spilt fuel turned into quite the chore.

Luckily, Airachnid rather liked the way it looked splattered against her plating. She was almost sad to see it go.

Even so, she sat in her private room with a pile of rags and several containers of some of the ‘best’ cleansers Earth had to offer, methodically wiping Kickback’s life-blood off her body.

_He’s late._

She didn’t appear overly concerned with the thought. Silas had been almost as busy as she was throughout the morning. Kickback’s path had been mapped out, in the hopes that Wheeljack and Dreadwing were still lying in agony somewhere miles from the base. The construction of Silas’ project had to be monitored, now more than ever. The Insecticons had to be watched. It had been almost nine in the morning before Airachnid had been able to leave them on their own.

_I will need to check on Shrapnel, when I’m finished here._

Regardless of the list of tasks, it didn’t change the fact that Airachnid had asked Silas to meet her here by three. According to her chronometer, it was almost six.

Her patience was running out.

The last smear of energon disappeared. Airachnid tossed the dirty rag into the pile with the rest of them.

Correction, her patience was gone.

When the door to her personal area slid open, the rusty roller and track rattling as it was pushed aside, she looked up with cold, almost disinterested optics.

“What do you want, Airachnid?” Silas all but growled, his optics narrowed.

“You’re late.”

“I was busy. Trying to find a new place to hide after the stunt your oh so obedient Insecticon pulled.”

“We don’t need to find a new place.” Airachnid stood from her seat on an old crate, brushing invisible crumbs and dust from her lap. “We’re fine right here.”

“Megatron knows where we are!” Silas moved closer, “I am not going to sit here and wait for him to-“

“Megatron isn’t coming.” Airachnid cut him off, tilting her head up to meet is optics. “If he knew where we were, he would have attacked us already. Wheeljack and Dreadwing are obviously in no condition to talk.”

“I’m not willing to take that chance.” Silas snarled. He began to turn away, clearly finished with the discussion, “And as I said before, I am _done_ arguing with you.”

“Funny,” Airachnid smirked dangerously, “I was going to say the same to you.”

The webbing hit Silas before he registered that Airachnid had moved, pinning him to the wall. He growled and struggled, yanking against the sticky binds as he tried to pry his chest away from the solid metal.

“Release me you foul dem- _Mph!”_ A second, smaller glob of webbing sealed his mouth shut.

“Much better.” Airachnid almost purred. She moved forward, almost gliding to her pinned prey. “I was getting tired of listening to you speak.”

Silas craned his head back as much as he could in an attempt to watch her, twitching slightly at the sounds of her transforming. The tips of her spider-like legs clicked sharply against the concrete floor as she approached him.

“I let you have your fun, Silas,” Airachnid spoke calmly, casually, as if this were a normal conversation, “And I told you, when you failed, I would be there to pick up the pieces. Well,” her blades dug into the wall, gouging deep into the steel as she slowly walked up and around Silas’ form, moving to hover above his head, “You certainly gave it your best. I’m sure Dreadwing and Wheeljack would have made wonderful suits for your lackeys. If only you hadn’t upset my Insecticons.” She tsked mockingly, her face the perfect picture of sympathy.

“They had never questioned my control before. I know, I know,” She reached down to pat at Silas’ cheek as he attempted to speak, his optics flashing angrily, “Dreadwing and Wheeljack told them about the coding. But you see, if you hadn’t lost your head, if you had let me handle the situation, I could have dismissed their doubts and worries. None of this dreadful _free-thinking_ would have been necessary. The Hive never liked you, Silas,” Airachnid cupped his chin, “and while Dragger certainly appreciated the chance to hurt the mech responsible for Hardshell’s death, the rest of them took sympathy on Dreadwing when you beat him. Everything you did after that was questionable to them. And the more they questioned you, the more they questioned _me,_ and my willingness to work with you _._ ”

Airachnid sighed and patted Silas’ cheek once more, “You were just so impatient. I told you, revenge is supposed to be _fun._ You are supposed to _enjoy_ the process. Can you imagine how the others must have felt when Wheeljack and Dreadwing went missing? Can you picture how Megatron must have felt every time he saw Soundwave? Oh, the pain must have been _terrible!_ ” She allowed herself to grin, obviously relishing the thought, “Anger and fear cause people to make very bad decisions. A few more weeks, one or two more captures, and they would have fallen apart in their haste to get their friends back. We would have had the upper hand. We could have destroyed them easily. A little more time, and your men would have been cutting into Megatron himself.”

Her grin faded into a displeased frown, her voice growing cold again, “But you had to rush it. All you wanted was the power. I enjoy my games, Silas, so long as they remain entertaining. And this? This was turning into one of my longest running games yet. How could I grow bored with such satisfying results? I had Soundwave _kneeling_ at my pedes, Silas! Now? They’re all gone. Back with Megatron and Optimus. There’s no urgency for them now. They can all stay on that ship, safe and sound, with no reason to leave. You’ve cost me my game, Silas.”

Silas jumped, pulling against the webbing as much as he could when he felt the familiar scrape of a blade running along the back of his head. Yellow optics widened.

“I wanted to kill you,” Airachnid said softly, “It would be so easy. I could give you a demonstration of how I took care of Breakdown.” The blade dragged down across Silas’ cheek, the tip digging into the metal there. Energon welled up, glowing faintly as it beaded along the wound.

Silas forced himself to hold very, very still.

“But,” Airachnid lightened the pressure of her blade, “then I reminded myself that, without my slaves drawing Megatron and the Autobots out, I need a way of enticing them to play. Megatron will try to hunt me down, I have no doubt about that, but now I need a different way of evening the battle field.” She grinned down at Silas, “Your scrambler will give me the edge I need.”

Yellow optics narrowed. Airachnid smirked in response, “I know it’s almost complete. I _also_ know that your men won’t take orders from me. Not if I eviscerate you. So, I came up with a new plan.”

Something shifted in the back of the room. Airachnid watched as Silas struggled to turn his head and catch a glimpse of what was coming. Her smirk grew into a grin, fangs flashing, as Silas’ optics widened. The fear that flashed across them was utterly delightful.

The Insecticon lumbered forward, optical band dim, until it stood just beside Silas’ trapped form. A thick cable already hung from the back of its neck.

“One sleeping Insecticon,” Airachnid reached down to grab the hanging cable, “won’t remember a thing.”

Silas yelled against the webbing, frantically yanking against his binds. He shook his head hard, attempting to keep Airachnid from attaching the cable.

“Come now, Silas, I thought you wanted the coding!” Airachnid tilted her head in mock confusion, “I believe that was our first fight. You wanted so badly to get your hands on it. I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

She grabbed his face, forcing him still. All of the muffled curses and yells went ignored as she leaned over her prey, quickly attaching the cable to his medical port. A glance was thrown at the dazed Insecticon, “Do it.”

Silas practically howled, struggling in vain to dislodge the cable. Airachnid watched his struggle, optics drinking in the fury and panic as the code was uploaded into him. She saw the last bit of defiance fade from his optics; saw the utter despair that began to bloom.

When the upload was complete, Silas went limp, his body still trembling with rage.

“Now,” Airachnid tilted his head up forcing him to look her in the optics, “You are not to tell anyone about this. _No one_ is to know what happened here. You will tell your men to finish the scrambler as quickly as they can. We are going to be staying here, so if they’ve started packing, you will tell them to stop. Am I understood?”

Yellow optics glared coldly into purple. Silas was clearly trying to fight, to stop himself from agreeing. Airachnid could feel it in his field, the hatred, the anger, so uncontrolled. But Silas was not a Cybertronian; his borrowed body reacted to its coding faster than a human reacted on instinct. He couldn’t fight it. His nod was stiff and slow, but it was a nod nonetheless.

Airachnid smirked and patted his head.

“Good boy.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!  
> I'm so sorry about disappearing everyone, school's been kinda crazy, and I did a cosplay for the first time ever that took a lot of my time to design and put together.  
> But rest assured, the fic is still going! I'm back now!  
> So um...quick notes from last chapter; a few of you had some interesting insight about what happened to Silas, and I'll be addressing that a little later, so hang in there.  
> I just want to thank you all so much for sticking with me and sending me encouragement even when I disappear, it means a lot to me, and makes writing a lot easier, I'm so glad you've all enjoyed this story so much, and I hope I can keep you invested for the ones that follow!  
> Also! I made an Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chillsoffire/ and I'll be posting cosplay stuff as well as updates (and maybe even a few spoilers *winkwink*) on this story if you guys want to stay up to date with my progress!
> 
> Now, shameless self promotion is out of the way; without further ado, enjoy the new chapter!! (sorry for any typos, I'm super excited to finally have this finished and even though I've read through it like 3 times I'm sure I missed something)

The air still smelled of energon and dirt; a strange combination of familiar Cybertronian scents and organic, alien life.

Shrapnel had thought he would have grown use to it by now.

Burying Kickback hadn’t taken very long. The soil on Earth was so much softer than the crust on Cybertron. Shrapnel had spent maybe half an hour digging out a large enough hole, and less than half that time pushing the dirt back over Kickback’s body.

It hadn’t taken long. But it had left him more exhausted than any fight he had ever been in. By the time he had finished, Shrapnel could not bring himself to do more than curl up on the large mound of freshly turned soil, his optics dim and spark aching.

They were waiting for him to come back. Dozens of Insecticons; his Hive, his brothers, sitting in the abandoned human dwelling. Dozens of beings he had hatched and grown and fought beside, survived war and famine and disease with.

But Shrapnel had never felt so alone.

How could he _not_ feel alone? How was he supposed to feel anything else? Losing Hardshell had been hard enough.

A soft whine escaped him, the sound only making the ache in his chest that much more painful.

They were gone, and he was alone. Left behind with a Hive that could not, or would not, see what Airachnid was doing to them. Slowly being pushed away as Dragger and those like him continued to insist that _he_ was the betrayer.

He didn’t want to go back to that. He didn’t want to be alone any longer.

The dirt felt strange against his mandibles as he nuzzled sullenly at the grave beneath him, his chest vibrating with an agonized rumble.

_I want my nest-mates back…_

Pain lanced through his spark, born of sorrow and loss and hatred.

He wanted his nest-brothers back. He wanted Airachnid to pay. He wanted Airachnid _gone._

He wanted his _Hive_ back.

The wounded rumbling cut off. Silence took the area.

A soft growl began to echo in his chest.

_That’s right._ Shrapnel raised his head slightly, optical visor brightening minutely, _It’s mine._

Hardshell had been the strongest of them, rightfully winning his right to lead the Hive time and time again, over Kickback, over Dragger, over Shrapnel himself.

When Hardshell had been killed, Kickback had earned his place, and split the leadership with Shrapnel. Neither of them had really needed to take the role; at the time, Megatron had been their commander, and then Airachnid had called to them shortly after.

But it had been known. They had been Head of Hive.

Now Kickback was dead.

Airachnid was no Queen. The others were wrong. Maybe some of them were beginning to see it, but many of them refused to.

Shrapnel was not going to let their ignorance continue.

“You’re still here.”

His growl grew louder, his visor brightening more as he turned to face the one who dared speak to him in such a tone.

It was his duty to protect the Hive. He would show them that he deserved that role. And he would do anything he had to in order to do his job.

“Kickback deserved his fate. Our Queen wants you back. _Now_.”

Anything. Including disposing of any _weak links._

“I do not take orders from you, Dragger.”

Dragger did not flinch at the rough snarl; but Shrapnel felt a satisfied thrill when the two Insecticons behind him did. Their gazes instinctively dropped, if only for a second, at the familiar tone of authority.

“You will do as you are commanded,” Dragger sneered, “Our _Queen_ has demanded that you return.”

“She is no queen!” Shrapnel snapped his denta together, drawing himself to his full height as he stepped off of Kickback’s grave, “And you are a disgrace to our Hive. A brother has fallen, we should all be in mourning.”

“Kickback was no brother to me,” Dragger hissed, “He could not respect our leader. And neither can you. I see it in your optics.” He sidestepped stiffly, gaze locked with Shrapnel’s. The two others that had followed him stepped back quickly as Shrapnel mimicked his movements, slowly beginning to circle him.

They recognized what was happening.

“Hardshell was a substitute,” Dragger snarled, “and Megatron was merely a stand-in for him. Our true leader has returned. It’s time you accepted that.”

“A leader we cannot argue with?” Shrapnel did not stop his plating from flaring out, “A leader we cannot challenge? One we cannot refuse!?”

“There is no reason to refuse her.”

“You only say that because you are incapable of it! Have you attempted to say no? Have you tried to deny her?!”

“No!” Dragger snapped, “Because I know how to remain loyal!”

“ _Do not lecture me on loyalty!”_ Shrapnel resisted the urge to launch himself at his competitor. He needed to see…needed to know… “Did you attempt to defend your brother last night? Did you even try to reason with her?”

“We do not defend those who endanger the Hive!”

“Did you not see how weak he was!?” Shrapnel roared, “Something was attacking him! From the inside! If you had tried to stop his death, you would have felt it! You would have felt the power that holds us prisoner!”

There. The others flinched, their optical bands dimming with guilt and confusion. They had tried to step forward last night.

They had felt the thing that kept them trapped.

Hope bloomed in Shrapnel’s spark, mixing strangely with his rage. _Finally_ others were beginning to see. The Hive might still have a chance to survive.

“There is _nothing_ holding us prisoner!” Dragger’s pede stomped hard against the ground, digging furrows into the dirt as he circled, “You believed the Wrecker’s _lies!”_ A wordless snarl ripped from his throat, “Kickback deserved a more painful death for disobeying our Queen! And you…you should have been killed with him.”

Shrapnel roared, a deafening sound that echoed through the forest they stood in, and charged.

They collided with an earth shattering _clang_ , already tearing into each other with armor piercing claws and snapping fangs.

Energon splattered against the nearby trees as deep wounds were slashed into living metal. Shrapnel pulled back, shoving Dragger off of him to regain space. A deep bite mark was visible on his right shoulder pauldron. Dragger shrieked with rage as he caught himself, his pedes sliding across the soft organic earth. Three long claw marks glowed blue across his chest.

_This is my Hive._ Shrapnel roared his defiance, setting his pedes for another charge. _I will not lose it!_

They rushed forward again, screaming their anger for the world to hear.

Shrapnel dropped to his servos, charging on all fours, his powerful claws ripping chunks from the earth as he propelled himself forward. He tackled Dragger around the middle, snarling loudly when claws dug into his back, attempting to tear his armor from his protoform. Dragger screeched as he was propelled backward, his pedes dragging uselessly through the soft dirt.

_He will not win!_ Shrapnel snarled again, ramming Dragger back against a thick tree. The trunk cracked and shuddered under the impact, and Dragger squealed as sharp splinters of wood stabbed beneath his armor.

Shrapnel drew back, only to shoot forward again, slamming Dragger against the same tree once more. The wood cracked like a gunshot, and suddenly it was falling, unable to withstand the force of the Insecticons’ fight.

They toppled with it, thrown off balance by its disappearance. Dragger screeched as he fell backwards, the sound matched by a triumphant bellow from Shrapnel. He fell on top of his opponent, claws already slashing against everything they could reach. Energon spattered the ground.

And then there was pain; a sudden, hot agony that bloomed in his stomach as Dragger brought his secondary arms into the battle. The sharp pincers dug deeply into Shrapnel’s abdomen, fitting perfectly under the armor there to stab into the softer protometal that lie beneath it.

Instincts kicked in, and Shrapnel hurriedly shoved himself away from the pain, intent on protecting himself. Dragger was quick to roll to his pedes, all four arms held at the ready, his optics bright with the thirst for violence.

Hatred bloomed deep in Shrapnel’s spark. The Insecticon before him was no longer his Hive. He was a betrayer, a challenger, and a _threat._ And Primus damn him if he allowed this _threat_ to best him.

They charged for a third time. When they collided, they slid across the earth, each of them trying to gain the upper hand, slashing at each other’s faces and snapping out whenever a servo came in range. Their secondary arms, sharp and pointed pincers that they were, continued to lash out, stabbing and tearing at exposed abdominal plating.

Dragger found his leverage first, his pedes finding a secure hold against the fallen tree. He pushed forward, forcing Shrapnel back until he stumbled. A triumphant shriek filled the forest as Dragger forced him down, landing heavily on top of him.

Shrapnel screeched as a servo raked across his face, his vision blurring from the spilled energon that welled and dripped across his visor. A heavy fist landed against his stomach, violently forcing the air from his vents.

_I! Will not! **Lose!**_ Shrapnel thrust a servo up as hard as he could. His palm caught the edge of Dragger’s chin, and he watched with a dark, satisfied thrill as Dragger’s head was forced back, the metal of his neck popping dangerously.

Reaching up quickly, Shrapnel wrapped his other servo around the exposed throat, squeezing tight at the same time that his secondary arms punched against Dragger’s stomach.

Dragger made a choked, garbled sound, servos scrambling against Shrapnel’s arm. He continued to glare down, visor still filled with fury.

_I should have killed you days ago!_ Shrapnel could not control himself enough to speak, but his optical band was bright with his intent, his field lashing like a whip to portray his thoughts. His free servo found purchase on Dragger’s chest, and with a loud growl he threw his opponent off of him. Another tree broke as Dragger flew against it.

He tried to stand, to force himself to his pedes and continue the fight, but Shrapnel did not give him the opportunity. With another roar, mandibles spread wide and denta snapping in warning, Shrapnel fell upon him, claws wrapping against his throat once more.

_Yeild!_ Shrapnel struck Dragger in the stomach when he continued to struggle, snarling in defiance. Dragger gave a strained yelp, but did not cease. He kicked out, the claws on his pedes catching painfully against Shrapnel’s side.

Shrapnel’s vision went red. His opponent had lost. He was defeated. If he was not going to yield and accept his place, then he would pay the price.

Dragger screamed, the sound going from one of fury to panic, when sharp denta sunk into his throat. His struggles renewed, his servos clawing and tearing at every part of Shrapnel’s body he could reach. Metal crunched beneath his palms, hot energon bubbled around his claws.

It only spurred Shrapnel on. With a guttural snarl, and one servo pressing tight against Dragger’s face to hold him still, Shrapnel bit down harder, and yanked his head back.

Metal ripped like paper in his jaws. Energon lines and wires, still partially connected to Dragger’s neck, followed him, connecting his mouth to the now gaping hole that was Dragger’s throat. Energon coated his mandibles, dripping from his mouth and down his chin. It continued to pump from the lines, weakly squirting to paint his chest and Dragger’s torso as his spark frantically continued to beat.

Dragger gurgled, a thick, wet sound that was muffled by the energon that bubbled in his mouth. His body jerked and twitched, desperately attempting to cling to life. Shrapnel stared down at him, watching as the light faded from his visor. Only when Dragger ceased to move, his body falling limp against the forest floor, did Shrapnel open his mouth and allow the vital internal components to spill out.

He slowly stood and turned to face the two Insecticons who had accompanied Dragger. They were watching him now, waiting to see what he would do.

Shrapnel pulled himself to his full height. He hurt. Energon dripped from open wounds, and there was dirt and other forest debris that would need to be cleaned from them soon. Pain hummed across his body.

He felt alive. His circuits hummed with adrenaline, his most basic coding sung with victory. He had met a challenge, and he had won.

Shrapnel threw back his head and bellowed his triumph, long and loud. The sound carried through the forest and beyond, letting all who heard it know that he was alive and ready to fight.

When his gaze returned to the two waiting Insecticons, he was pleased to see them bow. Their heads lowered submissively, their optics falling to their pedes. They recognized the chain of command, and they would follow it.

“What did you feel?” Shrapnel’s voice was deeper, roughened to a guttural growl. It would be that way until he came off his instinctual high.

“Pain…” The smaller of the two murmured. He had no scars adorning his frame, suggesting that he was either too young or too compliant to have ever fought another of the Hive. “I tried to stay beside him, and I felt pain…”

“I could not move,” the larger of the pair looked up, meeting Shrapnel’s optics carefully, “I knew what she was about to do. I tried to stop her, but could not move.”

“It’s real,” the first Insecticon dared to glance up, his voice still soft, “isn’t it? The code Dreadwing tried to tell us about…it’s real…”

“It is.” Shrapnel stepped toward them, shaking his servos to rid them of excess energon. He would need to clean up before they returned to the base, and to the rest of the Hive.

The Insecticon swallowed, “How do we fight something inside us?”

Shrapnel did not have an answer. He had asked himself the same thing, over and over again. How did they fight a code? How did they fight when one word could send them to their knees?

But now was not the time to show doubt. Now, he had to lead, and show they others what they were facing.

He met his Hive mates’ optics, squaring his shoulder confidently.

“We will find a way.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Soundwave wasn’t accustomed to being confused. But for the past few hours, confusion was all he knew. It outweighed even the exhaustion that hung around him like a heavy cloak, ready and waiting to take him under again.

Starscream had filled him in on everything that had occurred while he was gone, sparing no details.

Being mauled by the Insecticon, being taken in by the Autobots, learning of the slave coding, the Decepticons declaring a truce with the Autobots, Starscream told Soundwave all of it. His tone betrayed very few emotions, a fact that made Soundwave uneasy. Starscream’s emotions were usually broadcasted for everyone to see, through body language, through tone of voice, through the look in his optics.

But during the retelling of events, he was…dull. His optics stayed on the ceiling, save for the occasional glance to make sure Soundwave was following his story, and his voice was dry. If Soundwave hadn’t known better, he would have thought Starscream was reading from a script, the words flowing from his glossa as if they were merely weight Starscream wanted to rid himself off.

The only time emotion leaked into his voice was when he spoke of Laserbeak. Soundwave hadn’t been able to hide his surprise at the softer edge Starscream’s tone took when he spoke of his minicon, the warmth that colored Starscream’s voice when he said his name.

It was strange. But…not unwelcome.

Hours later, after Soundwave had spent most of the night drifting in and out of light recharges plagued by visions of acid and fangs, Megatron had stopped by the medical bay. The relief in his optics when he saw Soundwave sitting upright was unmistakable.

Soundwave hadn’t needed to ask about the coding.

Megatron sat with him for hours more, looking completely out of place on the small stool Knock Out usually occupied, explaining in further detail Starscream’s story, and adding in the things he couldn’t tell.

The trip to Cybertron and the events that had occurred during it. Conversations with Shockwave. His moments with Optimus. Megatron withheld information there, glanced away from Soundwave’s face ever so briefly, as if attempting to cover some deeper meaning behind those moments. Soundwave told himself to ignore it. He didn’t really care about the Prime in that moment. There was only one thing he wanted to know.

“Someone needed to take the responsibility,” Megatron had told him when he finally got to the part about volunteering for infection, “It was no one else’s to bear.”

Something had flashed in his optics then, something deep, something dark, something that reminded Soundwave of a younger gladiator from centuries ago.

It was gone before Soundwave could pinpoint exactly what it was.

Eventually Megatron had left, his field heavy with an exhaustion that worried Soundwave, saying he needed to get back to the bridge.

Bulkhead and Knock Out had filtered in and out a few times, always worried, always distracted, and always leaving after a few minutes, as if spurred by an unseen deadline.

Soundwave was left with his ever spiraling thoughts.

And Starscream.

Starscream, who appeared to still be sleeping; his optics closed and chest rising and falling in a slow pattern.

Starscream, who looked so broken that Soundwave found himself wondering what was still holding him together.

Starscream, the mech who had taken Laserbeak into his care, knowing he couldn’t fly, knowing he was having a hard enough time protecting himself, but still accepted the responsibility of watching an injured minicon, and payed the price for it.

Soundwave was beginning to doubt his original conclusion regarding Starscream’s motivation in taking Laserbeak.

“Must you stare at me?”

Soundwave forced his optic ridges to stay in place. Just because his mask was gone didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep his emotions in check. Still, he had not been aware that Starscream was awake.

“I thought having you watch me through that mask of ours was unnerving enough.” Starscream cracked an optic open, peering over at Soundwave, “What do you want?”

_Nothing you can give me._

Soundwave wanted several things.

He wanted Airachnid’s head on a spike.

He wanted Silas in pieces at his pedes.

He wanted Dreadwing and Wheeljack to be awake, and for the three of them to be free of this despicable code.

He wanted to know exactly what had been going on in Megatron’s mind when he’d willingly infected himself with it.

He wanted to look Shockwave in the optic and demand to know how he was going to fix this mess.

There was a lot he wanted; that his _anger_ wanted. A lot of answers he wanted to demand.

Starscream was still watching him, optics still bright and strong despite what he had been put through, as if he actually expected an answer from the silent and wounded mech beside him. It reminded Soundwave of the power he had felt from his hallucinations. And as Soundwave looked back at him, meeting his optics steadily, another, softer feeling began to bloom beside his anger, growing to change the current of his thoughts.

There _was_ something else he wanted.

He wanted his voice box back. He wanted his mask; something he could use to communicate.

He wanted to talk to Starscream, to tell him…to say...

Soundwave hesitated. He could not speak, he could not play a recording to get the words out, but there were other languages, others ways to communicate with him.

Slowly, almost unsure of himself, Soundwave reached his arm out to Starscream.

A silver optic ridge quirked up, and Starscream turned his head to better face his silent companion. Soundwave held his gaze steadily, arm still outstretched. When Starscream did not react, he twitched his digits slightly in silent invitation.

Surprise flashed through Starscream’s optics. Carefully, trying not to move too much on his own medical berth, Starscream extended his non-splinted arm, reaching out to fit his claws between Soundwave’s own thin digits.

Their fields wove together where their plating made contact. Exhaustion, anger, a cold numbness, confusion, a tiny, almost hidden sliver of fear, all was laid bare for the other to see, spreading slowly as the energy of their fields cautiously mixed. Both mechs paused at the sensations. Soundwave very rarely let his field be felt, and Starscream had not allowed another to touch him like his since his trine had disappeared.

It was small, simple, but it felt strange to both of them. Unfamiliar. Oddly, almost uncomfortably, intimate. But neither of them pulled away.

Soundwave’s digits curled more around Starscream’s servo. It had been a very long time since he had spoken hand; he was about as keen on touching others as he was on speaking these days. But this was important, he had to do this.

His thumb swept down Starscream’s servo in a half moon shape, feeling the charge beneath the plating there he manipulated his field and lit up nerve clusters. His middle digit tapped twice against the top of Starscream’s servo, short, light touched, before his first digit drew a small, rounded shape over the plating.

The surprise in Starscream’s optics grew, becoming more easily seen as they widened. He did not look away from their joined servos as Soundwave repeated the gestures. It was only after Soundwave repeated them for a third time that Starscream registered the words being written across his servo.

_Thank you._

Soundwave was thanking him; honestly, genuinely thanking him. There was sincere gratitude in his field, adding a depth to the words he tapped out with careful, precise digits.

_Thank you._

Starscream looked up at him hurriedly, for once at a loss for words. He had never expected this, had no idea how to react to it.

“I didn’t know you knew Chirolinguistics…” the words left his glossa before he could stop them, his voice brimming with shock.

For a split second, it almost looked like Soundwave smiled. Had Starscream actually seen the corner of his mouth twitch? The lights could be playing tricks after all. But no, there, his optics really had softened, and his optic ridges had adjusted just enough to show what _had_ to be amusement.

Soundwave was smiling. Soundwave was smiling _at him._

Starscream cleared his throat, trying to brush off his shock and regain his composure.

“You’re welcome…”

Soundwave shifted his arm, his digits curling a little tighter around Starscream’s servo. Starscream looked back down, curious to know what else he had to say.

The sound of the medical bay doors sliding open made both of them jump. They jerked their arms back quickly, the odd, gentle moment between them shattering as they hurriedly faced the door.

Laserbeak squealed, loud and high pitched, before shooting straight for Soundwave.

“I couldn’t keep him back any longer.” The Vehicon who had greeted Soundwave the first time he had regained consciousness stepped in after the minicon, sounding only mildly apologetic. “He missed you.”

Soundwave could not bring himself to care. He sat up to meet Laserbeak, his arms reaching out almost desperately before he could remind himself to stay in control. Composure no longer mattered; not now.

Laserbeak flew into his arms without hesitation, chirping and whistling with unrestrained joy. Soundwave almost forgot that there were others in the room as he gathered him close, embracing him tightly to his chest. He tucked his head down and closed his optics as Laserbeak butted against his chin and jaw, wings curling around Soundwave’s slim chest to return his touch.

Joy and relief filled Soundwave’s spark, making it swell almost painfully in his chest. Laserbeak really was safe; he was here, he was alive, he was in his arms again. The minicon squirmed and wriggled in his hold, attempting to nuzzle every inch of his head and chest, squeaking and chirping the entire time. His field flared out, grabbing at Soundwave’s desperately. Soundwave let his field extend, enveloping him in his energy. It didn’t feel like enough; after all this time apart, after all the worry and fear, Soundwave needed more. And from the impatient, demanding edge in Laserbeak’s field, he was having similar thoughts.

Soundwave inhaled through his vents, still uneasy about exposing Laserbeak to all he was feeling, before finally, _finally_ lowering the walls he had put up to block their bond.

Immediately the bond was filled with

_Missed you! Safe? Missed you! Worried! Missed you, missed you, missed you!_

Soundwave curled his arms a little tighter around his minicon, and was only slightly surprised to feel the warm wetness that began to well in his closed optics.

_I missed you too, little one…_

A low sound echoed through Laserbeak’s chassis, closely resembling the sound of Ravage’s purr, and the minicon went still in Soundwave’s hold; cuddling close to his chest to better feel the gentle thrum of his spark through his armor.

_So scared…_

Soundwave felt a lump begin to grow in his throat. His digits carefully traced along the still healing scars left on Laserbeak’s wings, feeling every rough irregularity in the normally smooth metal.

_So was I…_

“I’ll leave you be…” The Vehicon spoke softly. Soundwave did not look up at him, could not bring himself to uncurl from around Laserbeak for even a moment.

The doors slid open once more, and shut just as quickly. Soundwave could hear Starscream shifting from his berth, settling back in to rest. He was grateful that the Seeker did not try to ask for his attention again.

Silence filled the medical bay when Starscream stopped moving, disturbed only by the soft beeping of the monitors. Soundwave forced himself to breathe, slow and even, to regain control of himself. Laserbeak nuzzled his chin once more.

“Soundwave,” Starscream looked over briefly. If Soundwave had managed to lift his head for even a second, he would have seen a strange softness in the Seekers optics as he watched the moment unfolding on the berth next to him. But Soundwave could not bring himself to look away from Laserbeak, and Starscream did not wait for him to.

“Welcome back…”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“Striking the monitor will not improve our progress.”

Ratchet closed his optics and _begged_ the universe for patience. “I know that, Shockwave.”

“Your anger will only make our task harder.”

“Excuse me for having emotions,” Ratchet snapped, “We can’t all be like you.”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. Blue optics clenched shut, and servos froze over the keyboard they had been frantically typing on.

Shockwave remained silent.

“I’m sorry,” Ratchet opened his optics again, glancing at his lab partner, “that was unnecessary…”

“Your frustration is illogical, but understandable.” Shockwave turned back to his own monitor. Ratchet assumed that was his way of accepting the apology.

Air left Ratchet’s vents in a slow, controlled exhale. Shockwave was right, getting frustrated wasn’t going to help. But it was hard not to be. Wheeljack and Dreadwing were still in pain, no matter how deep into stasis they were, no matter how many inhibitors they were given, there was no reprieve from the agony. It was killing Knock Out and Bulkhead, Ratchet could see the sparkache in their optics.

He just wanted this to be over.

“We are getting closer.” Shockwave did not look away from his monitor.

Ratchet looked back at his own work, reviewing the little bit of progress he had made. They had been working non-stop since Dreadwing and Wheeljack had been stabilized the evening before. His optics were beginning to burn with exhaustion, and he could feel the stiffness start to creep into his joints. But there was no time to rest, not now.

Plating creaked as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his back. Blunted, silver digits posed over the keyboard once more.

“Let’s finish this.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The medical bay was peaceful.

It was an odd thing for Soundwave to think; the idea of the room, full as it was with critically injured Cybertronians and being visited by increasingly worried friends and coworkers, being _peaceful_ was almost laughable.

But it was.

Peaceful and quiet. The soft beeping of the monitors had faded to background noise, easy to ignore, fairly quickly. And Laserbeak’s gentle but solid presence in his arms soothed Soundwave’s weary spark.

He was safe. Laserbeak was safe. Starscream was safe (and when exactly had he started listing _that_ under his “reasons to relax”?) Ratchet and Shockwave were working on a cure.

Things were… _good._

So _good_ in fact, that Soundwave drifted back into recharge feeling content and almost happy for the first time in what felt like eternity, with Laserbeak on his chest and Starscream muttering an almost bored “good night” as he too settled in for the night.

Much had changed in the single day since Dreadwing and Wheeljack had been rescued. Soundwave was even able to feel hopeful for them, despite the obvious pain that could be seen on the monitors showing their brain waves.

It wouldn’t last much longer, right? They would be okay soon. The scientists would fix it. It would all be over soon.

Right?

…

Wrong.

Always wrong.

Always with Airachnid, _wrong._

Soundwave was torn from his recharge by the most agonized, _horrible_ sound he had ever heard.

He had witnessed miners fall into pits of acid, stranded to splash and plead and howl until the liquid melted their bodies to nothing.

He had won countless matches in the pits, his victories leaving his opponent a broken, pitiful mess of scrap on the floor of the arena.

He had watched as innumerable victims of war were tortured by Airachnid, Megatron, and the DJD.

Nothing he had ever heard could have prepared him for what he was hearing now. Nothing in the history of his existence had _ever_ chilled his energon so thoroughly, had stopped his spark so suddenly in his chamber, had left him _trembling_ like a newspark on his medical berth.

Dreadwing arched off his berth, backstrut bowed unnaturally, and _screamed._

The sound ripped from his throat, crackling with static as his voice box strained from the force. A loud clang echoed throughout the medical bay as he slammed back down, back plates scraping against the berth, and writhed, claws digging furrows into the thick metal surface of his berth.

He bellowed again, optics screwed shut, servos flying to slap and claw at his own body.

_“Make it stop!”_

Beside him, Wheeljack, who Soundwave had not noticed squirming silently, drew in a breath before letting loose a loud, long, _sob_. His blunt digits began to dig at his armor, prying it up at the edges as he attempted to scratch and soothe the unseen pain that plagued him.

“ _Somebody make it stop!”_ He screamed, letting out another sobbing scream that perfectly matched the animalistic howl Dreadwing was now making.

Soundwave could not look away, his optics blown wide with absolute, unrestrained terror.

The doors to the medical bay opened as Knock Out practically flew into the room, followed quickly by the new Vehicon staff, and a fearful looking Bulkhead.

“What’s happening!?” He tried to stay out of Knock Out’s way, but could not bring himself to leave.

“ _IT HURTS!”_ Dreadwing found his voice, barely, screaming again as his claws pierced through his own plating, clawing desperately in an effort to find the source of his torment.

“ _Make. IT. **STOP!”**_ There was a horrible screech, a sickening pop, and suddenly Wheeljack was throwing a piece of his own armor across the room, digits frantically beginning to pluck and pull at the exposed cables and protoform.

“Jackie!” Bulkhead’s voice hit a pitch Soundwave had never wanted to hear.

“Get him out of here!” Knock Out all but screamed at the Vehicons as he tore apart his work table, grabbing fistfuls of inhibitors and sedatives.

“Tell me what’s going on!” Bulkhead couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, coming to a halt beside Wheeljack’s berth with servos raised helplessly, “ _Jackie_!”

“It’s the coding!” Knock Out rushed to Dreadwing, hurriedly injecting the syringes he had gathered into his energon lines with shaking servos. His optics were bright with barely controlled panic, “The stasis isn’t holding anymore!”

Dreadwing screamed again, the sound almost drowned out by the horrific sob that Wheeljack let out, the sound bleeding into a wordless yell that sent chills down everyone’s spinal struts.

“Do something!” Bulkhead yelled as Wheeljack began to rip at another piece of his armor. “Jackie, stop!" He tried to restrain the smaller Wrecker’s servos, holding them tightly even as he struggled to yank them away.

“ _It hurts!”_ Wheeljack screamed at him, “ _IT HURTS!”_

Soundwave faced forward, optics still blown wide. The Vehicons were rushing to help Knock Out administer the sedatives, were struggling to restrain the two howling mechs before they did any more damage to themselves.

_You will never be rid of me._

Soundwave’s mouth went dry. His spark was pounding painfully in his chest, the sound echoing in his audio receivers.

_Even if you escape, that coding will always be with you._

Laserbeak was in his lap again, trying desperately to get his attention.

“Soundwave!” Someone yelled his name, but they sounded so far away.

_It will forever burn inside you, torturing you for every disobeyed order._

Wheeljack screamed again. Soundwave slapped his servos over his audio receivers, desperately trying to block everything out as fear threatened to overwhelm him.

_No, no, no, I complied. I complied. The code can’t hurt me now. I complied._

_You will never be rid of me._

_I complied…I complied…_

_Reminding you who you belong to._

Soundwave squeezed his optics shut, curling his legs in close to his chest. He pressed his servos tighter against the sides of his head when Dreadwing loudly and desperately begged for death.

This couldn’t be happening. They were free! They were away from her! This had to be a nightmare, the sedatives were going to kick in any time now, Dreadwing and Wheeljack were going to be okay! Airachnid couldn’t touch them anymore!

Something deep inside him squirmed. Something dark and sinister that only Soundwave could feel.

His vents stalled.

_No, no, no, no, nononononononono, NO!_

He could almost see Airachnid’s smirk in his mind’s eye; the flash of silver as she bared her fangs, the eerie glow of her violet optics.

_You will_ never _be rid of me._

Soundwave bowed his head until his forehead touched his knees. His plating rattled slightly as he trembled uncontrollably.

Wheeljack tore another piece of armor from his arms.

Soundwave squeezed his optics shut so tightly that they hurt, and let out a small, quiet, sob.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The call came over Megatron’s commlink near the end of his meeting with Optimus and Agent Fowler. True to his word, Optimus had spent much of the day before on Earth, explaining the situation to the human General Bryce _._ They had been given the all clear to do whatever they had to do in order to stop Silas and Airachnid, provided they tried to keep casualties to a minimum.

All that was left to do was come up with a plan of attack.

They had been making progress too, discussing ways to pinpoint MECHs exact location, though there was still the unknown variables to take into account.

What kind of weapons did they have?

Would they see them coming?

How would they stay connected if Airachnid had a scrambler to block their commlinks?

These questions all needed to be discussed, and were going to be, until Megatron answered the incoming call.

“We have a situation in the medical bay…”

Megatron went very still at the soft, almost scared tone of the Vehicon who had called.

“What happened?”

Optimus looked away from the human, back toward Megatron with brows furrowed in concern.

“…They woke up…”

“We’re coming.” Megatron ended the call and met Optimus’ gaze. Optimus did not need to ask.

They ran to the medical bay, silent save for the pounding of their pedes against the floor. Tripline met them at the door, his visor dim, his servo holding tight to a shaking Lightyear, who was leaning heavily against the wall with arms crossed over his chest.

“We could hear them screaming on the floor below…” Tripline murmured, “Primus it was awful…”

“Take Lightyear to his courtiers.” Megatron ordered, his voice _almost_ soft.

Tripline nodded before turning to gently tug at Lightyear’s arm, “C’mon…”

Lightyear swallowed hard, “I’d never seen them like that…” His voice was shaking, “Any of them…”

“Easy…” Tripline began to lead him away, holding him steady as his knees went weak.

Megatron and Optimus shared a look, privately steeling themselves for what they were about to walk into.

The medical bay was eerily silent when they stepped through the door.

Dreadwing and Wheeljack were silent once more, their systems overloaded with sedatives. Their monitors betrayed the stress they were under, their spark rates had increased, and their brainwaves were spiking with more pain. Wheeljack was missing several pieces of armor, and Dreadwing’s chest and arms had been shredded. Energon still stained his claws.

Knock Out was on the floor by Dreadwing’s berth, knees drawn to his chest and optics staring at nothing. Glistening tracks of moisture could be seen on his face as tears rolled from his dim and shimmering optics.

Bulkhead sat by Wheeljack’s berth, elbows on the now dented surface and face buried in his servos. His broad shoulders were trembling.

They had been prepared for this. It did not make seeing it any easier, but at least they had been expecting the pain and fear.

What Megatron and Optimus had not been prepared for, was Soundwave.

The spy master was still curled in on himself, knees tucked against his chest and chin pressed down. His servos were still glued to his helm, pressing tightly against his audio receivers. Laserbeak was still trying to get his attention, butting softly against his pede with low, pleading chirps. Soundwave didn’t seem to hear him.

Starscream was sitting up on his own berth, optics locked on Soundwave’s form, jaw clenched tightly but face otherwise expressionless.

_This is what the coding does._ Optimus slowly glanced from person to person, his spark growing steadily heavier with grief, _All this pain, all this suffering, was caused by the slave coding…_

The same coding that was in Megatron.

The same coding that he had control over, at least for the time being.

That knowledge suddenly weighed so much more on his conscious.

He had the power to do this to another being.

He had the power to leave another Cybertronian twisted in agony.

Optimus felt sick.

Megatron reached out with his field, seeing the sudden burst of pain that flashed through Optimus’ optics, but Optimus flinched away from the touch, drawing his field in tightly.

Annoyance, sudden an unbridled, flashed in Megatron’s spark. He tried to shove it down. Now was not the time for this. There were more important things to worry about than Optimus’ continuing to avoid him.

His troops needed him to lead.

“Knock Out-“

“I’m not leaving him.” Knock Out cut him off, his voice thick and shaking, but firm. He did not look away from his spot on the far wall, nor did he flinch from his spot.

Megatron hesitated, his optics drifting to Soundwave instead.

“Soundwave…”

The spy master did not move. And as Megatron watched, he could see the faint tremors of his body as Soundwave shook on his berth. Megatron felt the tiniest hint of fear take hold in his spark.

Never before had he seen Soundwave like this. He was stoic, solid, and strong, never shaken, never fearful. But now, Megatron watched as Soundwave shook, looking completely broken and vulnerable for the first time since Megatron had met him. Not even during his captivity had Soundwave appeared so weak and helpless.

Megatron didn’t know how to help him.

He turned to Starscream.

“I’m fine,” Starscream glanced at him briefly before looking back at Soundwave. Laserbeak gave a pitiful sound before pushing away from his spot beside Soundwave. Starscream caught him when he glided over, holding him to his chest with his good arm. “Sh…”

Megatron felt suddenly out of place. This was not something he was good at. Comfort was not something he knew how to provide.

Optimus moved forward, quiet as he went to stand beside Bulkhead. A slow, gentle servo was laid on the Wrecker’s shoulder.

Bulkhead drew in a stuttering breath, “He’s in so much pain…”

“I know…” Optimus looked back toward Megatron.

Megatron inhaled slowly, his servos curling into fists as he looked into steady blue optics. The message was silent, but obvious.

_I will end her._

And for an almost terrifying moment, Optimus shared the sentiment.

“Ratchet is close, right?” Bulkhead looked up, optics glistening and filled with desperation, “To finishing the cure? He has to be…”

Optimus glanced down to meet his optics, hesitant to say anything. He did not want to lie to his friend. But he did not want him to give up hope.

He took a slow breath, gently squeezed Bulkhead's shoulder, and activated his commlink, “I will ask him.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Ratchet was almost afraid to breathe.

The screen flashed steadily at him, the green light sharply highlighting his face.

Beside him, Shockwave stood in an equally captivated silence.

“Do you think…?”

“There is only one way to know.”

Ratchet nodded and brought his servo up to activate his commlink.

The incoming call caught him by surprise.

“Optimus?”

“Ratchet,” the soft worry in Optimus’ deep voice made Ratchet’s spark clench, “There has been a situation…are you any closer to completing the code?”

“I was just about to call you,” Ratchet restrained himself from asking. He already had an idea about what had happened, hearing the details would not help him keep his focus, “Shockwave and I need you and Megatron in the lab, immediately. We are ready to preform another test.”

“We will meet you there shortly.”

The call ended. Ratchet swallowed and closed his optics.

_Primus, I’m not a praying mech. But if you’re out there, we need your help. This has to work. It has to._

_Please…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha please don't kill me


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, after several long months, Chapter 27.
> 
> I know this chapter took forever, and I'm sorry about that, but I just want to take this time to thank everyone who commented on last chapter, even after so much time had passed. It really does help keep me motivated, knowing that you all enjoy this story!
> 
> I also want to say...during this delay, I've gotten the chance to talk to some of you more personally, mostly on Tumblr, one or two of you on Instagram and...you guys really are amazing. I feel so lucky to have met some of you, you're all so supportive and friendly, and it warms my heart, honestly.
> 
> Thank you all for being with me on this fanfic journey. To those of you that I've already gotten to talk to, I hope I can continue to get to know you! To anyone who I might get to talk to in the future, I can't wait to meet you!
> 
> (okay I'm done being sappy, you can read the chapter now xD )

Megatron bowed his head, allowing Shockwave to connect the cable to his medical port without a word. He did not flinch at the mildly unsettling sensation of his neural net being plugged into. It was a feeling all Cybertronians got used to, and even if it was not, the pain his subordinates were going through was enough to quell any complaints he might have had.

This was nothing.

Optimus was watching Ratchet when Megatron looked back up, his optics carefully monitoring the way his medic hunched over the console.

“Give him a command.” Shockwave spoke from his own work space, his single optic locked on the information being gathered from Megatron.

Megatron met Optimus’ optics when they turned to him. He could see the guarded worry in that sea of blue, and was careful to shove his own concern under another layer of stubborn determination.

This was going to work.

It had to.

“Raise your left arm.”

It was always a simple command. Optimus never changed the routine.

Megatron stayed still. The familiar discomfort bloomed in his shoulder as he refused to listen, steadily growing from an itch to a burn as his rotors and cables strained to move. Out of the corner of his optic, Megatron could see the way Ratchet was nodding at his screen. Everything must be going well, then.

When the burning turned to pain, and a strut deep discomfort began to spread throughout his being, Megatron slowly raised his arm, his gaze never leaving Optimus’.

So he did not miss the flash of disgust that flickered in his optics, the pain that threatened, only for a moment, to spread across his face.

Optimus hated having the power to do this to another being.

Megatron understood, with a sudden, almost painful clarity, why the Council had chosen Orion Pax to become Prime so many years ago.

“Everything is still aligning properly.” Ratchet was looking at Shockwave now, and Optimus glanced away from Megatron, his gaze dropping down slightly before moving to the two scientists.

“We may proceed.” Shockwave hit a button on his monitor. “Lord Megatron, you may experience some discomfort.”

“Just do it, Shockwave.” Megatron braced himself, mentally preparing for a battle he knew he could not lose.

There was a pause, a slight stillness that seemed to envelope the room. Ratchet invented deeply. Optimus went very, very still. Even Shockwave seemed to hold his breath.

“Initiating transfer.”

Megatron clenched his fist as Shockwave pressed a final button, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing seemed to happen. There was no feeling of unease as something downloaded into his system, no alerts from his HUD to warn of any danger. For a moment, Megatron almost entertained the possibility that Shockwave had hit the wrong button.

He opened his mouth, ready to growl out a demand for answers, when his neural net lit up in flames.

Oh by the Allspark, the Pit, Primus and Unicron, it _hurt!_

Whatever Shockwave and Ratchet had created, the slave code inside him did _not_ like it.

Megatron shouted in shock and pain as the codes warred inside him, his own system defenses suddenly running on overdrive to flush out the vicious line of coding.

Only they didn’t know which one to attack.

Everything burned, like he had been thrown in a fiery pit that somehow attacked his spark as brutally as it did his body. Static clouded his vision, his audio receivers buzzed deafeningly, and he didn’t realize he was falling until his palms were pressed against the hard, cold floor of the lab.

Alerts flashed over his HUD, the messages popping up and disappearing too quickly for him to read. Deep in his spark, at the very base of his soul, he could almost picture the codes battling against each other, each attempting to root deeper into his being.

He yelled again as a harsh, tearing pain ripped through him. There was an odd, indescribable feeling of something coming loose, deep, deep inside him, and then…oh Primus then…

Quiet.

Relief.

_Peace._

Megatron gasped out suddenly, unaware that he had been holding his breath, and listened to the roaring of his fans as they struggled to cool his systems.

Slowly, his vision began to clear, revealing deep gouges in the floor where his sharpened digits had dug in. There were pedes on either side of him, and if he focused he could feel a servo pressed against his back.

“Megatron!” Optimus’ voice broke through the buzzing as it gradually began to fade, “Megatron, _look at me!”_

Megatron went still, unresponsive.

_Look at me!_

A command. An order.

A test.

Optimus seemed to realize what he had done; his servo disappeared from Megatron’s plating, and the lab went quiet as the four occupants waited.

And waited.

Nothing squirmed beneath Megatron’s plating. No cables strained in his neck. There was no burning, no pain, no demand to obey.

There was nothing.

It was gone.

A low chuckle rolled through Megatron’s chest, steadily gaining volume and depth until he could feel his shoulders start to shake, and he moved back to sit on his heels as he let out loud, echoing peels of deep, rumbling laughter.

“Megatron?”

The others were watching him with varying degrees of concern, waiting for him to speak, to tell them what was going on.

His laughter subsided, and Megatron pushed himself back onto his pedes, rolling his shoulders with a small, half grin.

“I suggest you get that code down to the medical bay. I suspect the others will be very pleased to have it.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The warehouse was dark, and cold.

The Insecticons were sleeping against the far wall, curled around each other in a massive pile of fangs and armor. The sparse bit of moonlight that filtered through the covered windows reflected off the edges of their plating, and made their denta shine.

Soundwave swallowed, unable to stop himself from remembering how easily those jaws had torn through his body, through _Wheeljack’s_ body. He closed his optics.

The wall was hard against his back. Everything ached. His knee was throbbing.

He was so cold.

His armor rattled slightly as he shifted, pulling his legs up against his chest, his arms wrapping awkwardly around them as his head dropped against his knees.

_What time is it?_

He couldn’t tell. His chronometer was broken. But it was so dark…it had to be very early morning, when the Hive was still, when MECH was silent, when Airachnid and Silas were locked away further inside the abandoned building that had become his prison.

_I’m cold…_

Soundwave closed his optics, his spark heavy. He was alone, so very alone, in this dark place. No one was going to help him…not now…not ever…

“Do you want to explain what is going on with you?”

Soundwave lifted his head.

The Insecticons were gone.

_Everything_ was gone. The room had disappeared, as if it had been pulled away from him by an unearthly force. Soundwave could still feel the pressure of the wall against his back, but when he turned to look, he was met with only darkness.

He looked forward again.

Starscream stood before him, his armor gleaming, reflecting light from an unidentifiable source. His arms were crossed over his chest, his pedes were spread and set just slightly apart, and one optic ridge was arched in silent question. Bright, sharp red optics bore down on Soundwave, obviously expecting an answer.

But Soundwave did not have one to give.

He looked down.

“Look at me.”

Soundwave could not bring himself to raise his head. He was too tired, too sore.

_I’m cold…_

“Soundwave.” Starscream’s heel struts clicked sharply against the…Soundwave supposed it could be called a floor. Something was supporting them, after all. Three short steps brought Starscream close enough to stand over Soundwave’s pedes.

Soundwave closed his optics again. The carvings along his chest were beginning to burn.

He was so tired…

The soft touch under his chin almost made him jump. His optics snapped open, and his head obediently lifted as the servo pressed up.

Starscream was kneeling in front of him, knees resting against his pedes, wings flared wide. One clawed servo was extended, carefully cupping Soundwave’s chin and holding firm when he attempted to pull away. There was no smirk on Starscream’s face, no smile, no frown. His optics flicked over Soundwave’s face, searching for something.

“What has she done to you…?”

Soundwave’s spark tightened in his chest. A tiny flame of anger flashed, white hot, for a split second before dying away, replaced by exhaustion and that creeping, familiar numbness.

The grip on his chin tightened.

“Are you going to let her win?”

Let her?

_Let_ her _?_

Soundwave curled his digits into a weak fist.

_She has already won…_

Starscream was silent. His servo slowly fell from Soundwave’s face.

“Do you actually believe that?”

Soundwave swallowed, his gaze dropping back to his knees. What else was he supposed to believe? He was trapped…they were all trapped…tangled in her web and waiting to be sucked dry.

Starscream sat back on his heels, “Soundwave, where are we?”

The dark nothingness around them flickered, and for an instant Soundwave could see the warehouse again. His optics were drawn to the dull bits of denta plate that were still strewn across the floor.

They were there…they were trapped, imprisoned, locked away and chained by pain, lost to-

“No.” The image melted away. Soundwave looked up quickly at the sharp tone in Starscream’s voice. Starscream leaned closer, “Where are we, Soundwave? Think.”

Soundwave blinked slowly, and was silent.

Starscream huffed. “You know where we are. And it isn’t there.” He reached up. Soundwave leaned back against the invisible wall behind him, pressing his aching back to the cold surface. Starscream set his servo over his chest.

“ _Think._ ”

He pushed down.

And suddenly Soundwave was falling backwards, the wall disappearing as if it had never existed at all. His optics widened, and his arms lifted quickly to grab for something, anything, to keep himself from dropping into the abyss.

Darkness closed around him, Starscream disappeared.

Soundwave closed his optics.

He hit the ground hard, his body bouncing once before his reflexes kicked in.

A deafening cheer thundered around him as he regained his footing, arms immediately coming up in a defensive stance.

_I’m…in the Pit…_

Soundwave recognized the arena before he even opened his optics. The screaming cheers and wild yells, the scent of heated metal and spilled mech-blood, the rush of his energon in his lines…

He was back in the Pit, watching from behind a full mask as his opponent emerged from the preparation cell at the far end of the arena.

Nothing hurt. His cable wasn’t ripped, there were no glyphs carved across his body. Soundwave felt… _strong._

The thicker armor he once wore felt wonderfully familiar, shifting smoothly as he moved to prepare himself for a fight.

Slowly the door rolled open. Soundwave readied himself for battle, shifting his stance just so. He was ready for this, for war. This is what he was. A warrior, a gladiator, powerful and dangerous. Whoever, or whatever, stood behind that door would learn to fear him.

Shadows shifted. The door clanged against its frame. A low, steady snarl echoed across the arena.

Soundwave’s energon ran cold at the same time the crowd fell silent. All previous confidence fled his spark at the familiar sound. Flashes of ripping fangs and unimaginable pain flooded his mind.

An Insecticon, denta dripping with energon and claws dirty with shredded protometal, stepped into the arena.

“I want a good show!” Soundwave’s head snapped up at the sound of Airachnid’s voice. She stood on the edge of the wall separating the pit itself from the now empty spectator seats. A deadly smirk played across her lips, her optics glinting in the sparse light as the bright spotlights suddenly dimmed.

A shiver ran down Soundwave’s spinal strut, only partially due to the sudden chill in the air.

“You know what I want,” Airachnid’s smirk grew as she locked optics with Soundwave, “Don’t you, slave?”

Soundwave fell to his knees, dragged down by the sudden pain that shot through his legs. He looked down, optics widening.

His thick, battle ready armor was gone, the carvings were back, etched deep into his plating once more. Energon was beginning to pool beneath his injured leg, obviously from the line that had been severed by his broken cable. Fear swept over him, his spark beginning to pound frantically in his chassis.

Airachnid laughed darkly, her attention shifting to the waiting Insecticon, “Finish him!”

The Insecticon screamed into the arena, dropped to all fours, and charged.

Soundwave scrambled to get to his pedes, to push himself up, to run, to fly, to fight, to do _anything_! His pedes slipped through his own life-blood, almost sending him sprawling back to the floor of the arena. When he regained his balance, the Insecticon screeched angrily, ready to pounce and tear into him.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He was weak, crippled, and helpless. Fighting the Insecticon was suicide!

He turned on his heel, and ran.

All of three steps.

Something caught hard around his ankle, yanking tight and dragging him back to the floor with a jarring _crash._ Soundwave rolled over, feeling the ground under him tremble beneath the weight of the charging Insecticon.

A chain. A cuff. Soundwave was caught in place, unable to run, unable to fight, tied down like a sacrificial offering as certain death bore down on him.

Airachnid’s laugh filled the air, echoing cruelly in Soundwave’s audio receivers. The Insecticon jumped toward him.

Soundwave raised his arms and squeezed his optics shut tight.

“Wrong. Again.”

Everything went silent. Airachnid’s laugh cut off, the snarls of the Insecticon disappeared. Still, Soundwave was afraid to move. Any second now, the Insecticon would land on him with ripping claws and gnashing denta. Agony would consume him as he was torn apart.

Only nothing happened.

Soundwave slowly lowered his arms, and opened his optics.

Starscream stood over him again, servos on his hips.

“She really has gotten under your plating.”

A light flickered somewhere behind Soundwave, casting shadows that flashed and curled over the ground and back wall of the arena. Starscream kicked at the chain that bound Soundwave to the ground.

“Get up.”

Soundwave looked up at him, optics wide in shock.

Up? He _couldn’t_ get up.

What was the _point_ of getting up?

His gaze fell to the chain around his ankle.

_You will never be rid of me, Soundwave. Even if you escape, that coding will always be with you._

There _was_ no point. He thought he had been free, he thought that he had won. But he wasn’t, he hadn’t. She was still there, still in his head. The coding was still inside him, waiting to strike.

The steadily growing puddle of energon caught his attention, drawing his gaze up to his knee. His line was still leaking, the cable still broken.

_Even if you manage to get away from this, from me, from Silas, you will be returning to Megatron a broken, useless drone! Do you think he will want you? Do you honestly think he’ll accept you back when you have nothing to offer him?_

Cold, all consuming numbness began to settle over his mind again. The lights of the arena went out one by one, until there was nothing but darkness once more. Soundwave drew his knees back up to his chest, flinching as the movement caused the chain to rattle. Starscream watched him quietly, his face expressionless.

_You will never be rid of me, Soundwave._

Soundwave lowered his head.

A heavy silence fell between them, stretching into the endless void they now stood in.

_I’m cold…_

The sound of shuffling pedes stirred Soundwave just enough to get him to lift his head. Starscream was kneeling in front of him again, adjusting to sit comfortably on his heels. He set his servos on his thighs, his back straight and tall, and met Soundwave’s optics.

“Do you know why you see me, Soundwave?”

Once more, Soundwave’s mind flashed back to the warehouse, to sitting against the wall, watching Starscream sculpt a chunk of artists’ metal.

_I’m your pride. You need a healthy dose of that right now._

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Soundwave was quiet, watching Starscream through weary and dim optics. Starscream adjusted himself again, his wings lowering to a more relaxed position. He looked almost…regal, sitting in front of Soundwave, completely in control of himself and his environment. Soundwave hadn’t seen him like this since his rule during the three years Megatron had been away.

“You were trapped; imprisoned with no one to turn to. You only had one goal in mind; _escape._ You only wanted one thing.” Starscream casually opened his subspace, lifting one servo to calmly shift through whatever it was he had stored there.

“I defy orders when I need to. I get results. I know how to sneak, deal, and yes, when needed, plead and grovel, in order to get what I want. You were born a slave. You fought, and clawed, and killed others to get out of the mold the Senate had thrown you into. You and I, we are more alike than would first appear.”

Soundwave lifted his head a little more, growing slightly more interested in what Starscream had to say.

“You were trapped,” Starscream repeated, “locked in dangerous territory, surrounded by the enemy, and growing weaker. You needed to remember how to fight. You needed someone to _remind_ you to fight. You needed a symbol, and you chose me, Soundwave, because, like you, I know how to bide my time, to wait until the right opportunity presents itself. I was your will to survive.”

Slim, sharpened digits withdrew from his subspace, holding the newly finished form of the artists’ metal up for Soundwave to see. Purple optics widened slightly.

Starscream glanced to the perfectly shaped key he now held between his thumb and foredigit, before grinning slightly at Soundwave, red optics flashing in triumph. He reached down and carefully slid the key into the lock that held the cuff around Soundwave’s ankle.

“I was your freedom.”

The key turned. The cuff fell away and disappeared into a cloud of dust, vanishing without a trace.

Soundwave sat up a little straighter, his spark beginning to pound in his chassis. But this time, it was not because of fear.

Starscream leaned forward, “Where are we, Soundwave?”

Soundwave’s arms fell away from his knees, servos pressing against the floor so he could lean in, attention focused on the mech in front of him.

A slow smirk crept over Starscream’s face. He moved closer, one servo coming to rest against Soundwave’s chest. His voice lowered to a whisper, “Where are we?”

He pushed.

Soundwave fell back, and when he landed this time, he was on the _Nemesis,_ in the medical bay. He was no longer bleeding. He was no longer in pain.

Starscream fell with him, landing over him with servos on either side of his helm, his legs straddling Soundwave’s hips. The smirk on his lips grew into a grin.

“Correct.” He leaned down, hovering so close that Soundwave could feel the soft brush of his breath against his face, “You have your freedom, Soundwave,” the grin grew ever so slightly, “Claim it…”

And Soundwave did.

He sat up quickly, one arm coming up to curl around Starscream’s back, wrapping under his wing so that he could press his servo between his shoulders and pull him down to meet him. They met in a heated, desperate kiss, lips parting almost immediately.

Starscream’s breath was warm, and held a flavor Soundwave could not describe. Sharp, but sweet. Bold, but not overwhelming. It was nothing he had ever tasted before; and it quickly became addicting.

Their glossas brushed against each other as they deepened the kiss. Soundwave shivered slightly when Starscream traced his glossa over the line of his denta plating, and retaliated by pulling back and nipping lightly at a thin bottom lip. Starscream inhaled sharply and pressed their mouths together again.

Digits, quick and greedy, began to roam. Starscream dragged his sharpened claws over Soundwave’s torso, applying just enough pressure to light up nerve sensors beneath the plating.

Soundwave arched into the touch. His thin digits slipped easily beneath Starscream’s plating, plucking at sensitive wires and stroking along tense cables.  

Starscream gasped into the kiss, wings lifting to give Soundwave more access to his back. He arched up into the sensations.

“Soundwave…”

If that wasn’t a sound to die for, Soundwave didn’t know what was. He never, not in a million lifetimes, would have thought that he would be in berth with Starscream, that he would be hearing this proud Seeker moan his name. But now that he had?

He wanted more.

“Ah…Soundwave…” Starscream’s servo slid back to the berth, bracing himself up as Soundwave’s digits moved to his hips and dipped into the gaps between his armor.

Soundwave kept his optics on Starscream’s face, hungrily taking in the way his optics closed, the way his mouth fell open slightly. Their cooling fans were running now, pushing hot air away from their inner core as quickly as they could.

Starscream gasped when Soundwave shifted his hips, grinding up once to press their heated panels together.

“Soundwave!”

He leaned up again, burying his face in the crook of Starscream’s neck so he could bite and kiss at the exposed energon line there. For the first time, he was thankful that he no longer had his mask.

_“Soundwave!”_

His optics snapped open suddenly, a silent gasp escaped him.

The harsh glare of the medical bay lights hurt his optics. He narrowed them quickly to give them time to adjust.

Starscream was gone.

Or rather, Starscream was where he was _supposed_ to be; in his own medical berth, attached to his own monitors, bearing his own scars and injuries, watching Soundwave carefully as he held a jittery Laserbeak against his chest.

_It was a dream…_

The low, repetitive beeping of the monitors caught Soundwave’s attention. He could hear all four of them, each sounding off at a different pace.

 Embarrassment flooded through Soundwave’s spark when he realized that the faster rhythm was coming from his own monitor.

“Are you alright?” Soundwave looked up at Knock Out, who was hovering over him, his optics locked on the monitors. Soundwave could see several syringes held tightly in his grasp, ready for use at a moment’s notice.

Soundwave nodded once, sitting up slowly to show Knock Out that he was not in pain. The code was leaving him alone.

For now.

Relief flickered through Knock Out’s optics, almost unnoticeable beneath the layers of exhaustion.

Soundwave nodded again before casting his gaze to Dreadwing’s berth. Knock Out didn’t need to guess what he was trying to say.

“Let me know if something changes.”

Starscream was still watching him when Knock Out moved away, returning to Dreadwing’s berthside once more. Soundwave tried to hold his gaze, tried to return a steady, controlled look.

_I was your freedom._

Arousal curled deep in Soundwave’s spark. He averted his gaze quickly. It would be awhile before he managed to forget the look of bliss twisting over the Seeker’s face.

_Although,_ his optics drifted almost immediately to the other two occupied berths, _maybe it will not take that long, after all…_

The monitors tracking Dreadwing and Wheeljack’s brainwaves had started to glow red at some point while Soundwave slept. It was an early warning sign, only occurring when there was something horribly, horribly wrong.

Their pain was getting worse. Their systems were beginning to crash. Knock Out could only give so many sedatives and inhibitors. He had hit the limit, and it was not enough. And it was obvious that the others knew it.

Soundwave had to look away when he saw the expression that Bulkhead wore. Agony, terror, and helplessness were all blatantly displayed across the Wrecker’s face. He was stubbornly refusing to look at the monitor, instead keeping his optics on Wheeljack. Both of his servos were clasped around one of Wheeljack’s, holding tightly as if he could keep his sparkmate from slipping away by physical force alone.

“We should hear from Megatron soon.” Starscream broke the silence, his optics shifting between Knock Out and Soundwave, “He and the Prime have been in Shockwave’s lab for almost a cycle now.”

“What if the tests didn’t work?” Bulkhead’s voice was low and hoarse. He swallowed thickly before glancing up at Knock Out, “How much time would they have?”

Knock Out looked down, his silence saying all they needed to hear. Bulkhead closed his optics and squeezed Wheeljack’s servo tighter.

“It will work.” He almost whispered the words to himself, giving a small, sharp nod to accompany the soft declaration, “It has to. Ratchet will make it work.”

Knock Out nodded once, slow and unsure, but did not speak.

Silence took the room again. No one knew what to say. Even Starscream was lost for words. There was no comment to be made here, no words that would even _begin_ to fix all the damage that had been done.

Laserbeak pushed away from Starscream, trilling quietly as he returned to Soundwave’s berth. He landed in Soundwave’s lap, making himself comfortable before Soundwave could shift away. Soundwave allowed a tiny smile to ghost over his lips. Tenderly, he stroked the tips of his digits over Laserbeak’s wings, enjoying the small, pleased shiver that the action drew from his minicon.

“How did you survive it?”

Soundwave looked up quickly, confusion pulsing through him at Starscream’s question. The Seeker was watching him again, optics sharp and curious.

“You were with her for more than an earth month. I’ve seen her work, she’s incredibly good at what she does. You seem extremely well adjusted for a mech who’s been stuck in her web for so long. How did you survive?”

_How useful do you want to be, Soundwave?_

_Don’t let her see your fear._

_If you give up, if you die, they win!_

Memories flashed through his mind, of murmured words, strong optics, steady servos and soft touches. Of unwavering resolve, stubborn pride, calm, reasoned arguments that kept hope from fading away.

It had all been in his head. They hadn’t been real. And yet…

Soundwave looked back down to Laserbeak, quiet. How did he explain…how did he put into words the comfort he had taken from Starscream’s image?

He was saved from answering, from trying to find the words, by the sound of the medical bay doors sliding open.

“We have it.” Ratchet rushed to the medical berths, his optics sweeping over the monitors quickly. His jaw clenched tightly, and none of them missed the pain in his optics when he looked at the two unconscious mechs who had been trying, not long ago, to tear themselves apart.

“The cure?” Bulkhead sat up straighter, his grip tightening around Wheeljack’s servo again.

“Yes,” Shockwave followed behind Ratchet, a large medical scanner in his servo, “Our final test was successful.”

“It works,” Megatron looked from Soundwave to Knock Out, “but I will warn you, it is painful.”

Knock Out swallowed hard, his servo quickly moving to rest on Dreadwing’s chest, “You’re sure?”

“I am. The sensation is…extremely easy to place.” Megatron rubbed briefly at the back of his neck, “It works.”

Ratchet moved to Wheeljack’s berth, gently nudging Bulkhead to the side so he could have better access to the unconscious mech. Bulkhead stepped aside for him, his face still twisted with worry, and looked up as Optimus approached him.

“H-how bad is it?”

Optimus set a servo on his shoulder, “It appeared to be extremely unpleasant,” his voice was gentle, “but it will be worth it. Wheeljack will be alright.”

Bulkhead nodded, his field filling with nervous relief, before looking back at Ratchet. He swallowed hard as Ratchet attached the scanner to Wheeljack’s medical port.

On the next berth, Shockwave was mimicking Ratchet’s actions, effortlessly shifting Dreadwing to expose his medical port and attaching his own scanner there. Knock Out had stepped back, not raising any objections to Shockwave carrying out a medic’s duties, and was now torn between watching Dreadwing and watching his monitor. His optics flicked back and forth, as if he was unable to decide which would be less distressing to watch.

Soundwave sat up more, watching closely as the two scanners were activated. He could see a line of coding flashing over the screens, the glyphs turning green as the code was successfully transferred to the two mechs.

A long moment of silence fell over the group. Megatron and Optimus exchanged a short glance, and Ratchet hovered his servos over Wheeljack’s body, as if expecting to have to push the mech down.

Starscream glanced from scientist to patient, optic ridge raising slightly.

Knock Out opened his mouth, voice box clicking as he activated it.

Wheeljack cut him off with a scream, his body suddenly thrashing with such force he nearly threw himself off the berth. Ratchet, who had obviously expected the reaction, was quick to hold him down.

“Jackie!” Bulkhead was suddenly very grateful for the servo on his shoulder. It was the only thing that stopped him from leaping forward.

A second howl of agony filled the medical bay as Dreadwing arched from his own berth, digits clawing into the surface once more. Knock Out’s optics flew to the monitor as it began to beep shrilly in warning.

“He’s overheating!”

“We know!” Ratchet’s optics were locked on Wheeljack’s monitor, watching his vitals change rapidly, “The codes are trying to expel each other!”

Dreadwing’s spark rate suddenly soared to dangerous levels. Knock Out’s almost halted in response. “ _You’re killing them!_ ”

“Just wait!”

Knock Out looked back down at Dreadwing, his servos shaking as he watched that handsome golden face plate contort in agony.

Wheeljack let out another loud shout, the sound echoed by Dreadwing, before both of them suddenly went limp, their bodies collapsing back against their berths.

The monitors continued to beep shrilly for a moment more, and then, as quickly as they had risen, the numbers strewn across the screens began to fall. Vitals returned to normal, the red warning backlight disappeared.

Dreadwing shivered once, and Wheeljack let out a sharp exhale from his vents, before both mechs seemed to slump with relief; long, soft sighs escaping them.

Ratchet slowly lifted his servos from Wheeljack’s body, inhaling slowly. If one looked closely, they could see his servos trembling ever so slightly.

Bulkhead swallowed, the sound strangely audible in the suddenly silent medical bay.

“Did it work?”

Ratchet nodded slowly, “Yes…”

“The code was successfully integrated into their systems.” Shockwave disconnected his scanner, stepping aside as Knock Out jumped back to Dreadwing’s side.

“Jackie…” Bulkhead stepped away from Optimus, back to Wheeljack’s berth as Ratchet moved away. His servo was shaking as he moved to touch Wheeljack’s shoulder.

“He will need time to rest,” Ratchet spoke gently, “It may be awhile before he wakes up.”

“But he’ll be okay?”

“The code may have inflicted some damage to his system,” Ratchet forced himself to be honest,, “we will have to wait until he wakes to say for certain. But,” Ratchet gave a slight smile, a barely there upward turn of his mouth, before placing a servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder, “Wheeljack is a strong mech.” He glanced over at Knock Out, watching as the Decepticon medic pressed his lips to Dreadwing’s servo, “They both are.”

Knock Out’s optics flicked up, meeting Ratchet’s gaze. He knew all the things that could be wrong, had spent night after night worrying over every possibility. But, right then, none of that mattered. Dreadwing was free, of the code and of its pain, and that was all Knock Out needed.

A thousand emotions flashed through his optics, emotions that Knock Out could not find the words to describe aloud. Ratchet didn’t need him to; he gave a slight nod, and Knock Out closed his optics, his shoulders slumping with a relief few could ever understand.

Megatron turned from the scene, averting his gaze from such a vulnerable moment, and looked to Soundwave.

Soundwave did not need to be told what to do. He sat up quickly as Shockwave approached, bowing his head without waiting for an order.

Shockwave was quick and professional, attaching the cable painlessly to Soundwave’s medical port. The spy master could hear the soft beeps as Shockwave gave the command to transfer the code, and the moment of tense silence quickly followed.

“Brace yourself,” Megatron warned him during the pause, nodding once when Soundwave looked up to meet his optics.

Soundwave nudged Laserbeak from his lap, curled his digits around the edge of his berth, and waited.

A bucket of acid being poured over his head would have hurt less.

The new code and the old code, the cure and the disease, met each other head on; both with the intent to destroy.

Nerve receptors all across his body lit up, too fast and too strong, the sensations of the room turning painful as they overwhelmed him. His core burned, set ablaze by the new war inside him, the heat so intense that for a moment Soundwave wondered if he would melt from the inside out.

His optics whited out, his audio receivers began to drown in static, and suddenly Soundwave couldn’t tell if he was up or down, or if he was even still on the medical berth. Was there even a surface under him anymore?

All Soundwave could feel was the war; the war that would decide his fate, the war that would either set him free or doom him to a life as a slave. Pain and fire was all he could feel, they made up everything he was.

Something twisted inside him.

And then suddenly it was gone.

The fire flickered out, the pain vanished like mist in the sun, and Soundwave was left in a cool, safe darkness.

His senses returned to him slowly.

Megatron was hovering over him, standing close to the side of his berth. A few cables were held in his servos, and it took Soundwave a moment to realize that they were medical cables, knocked from his own body during his apparently wild thrashing. Starscream was watching him from his own berth, craning his neck up to see around Megatron’s back. Laserbeak screeched in worry, flapping his wings irately.

“How do you feel?”

Soundwave blinked slowly. There was nothing pulling at the back of his mind. No ghostly itch that begged for his attention. The need to serve, to be controlled, that alien hunger for order that he had felt since Airachnid had first infected him, it was all gone.

There was nothing left.

He was _free._

Soundwave looked from Laserbeak, to Starscream, to Megatron. His optics met those of his leader, and held steady.

How did he feel?

Soundwave looked up at Megatron, and smiled.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.

The cheers on the bridge were deafening.

Megatron and Optimus had sat in the medical bay for a few hours after their soldiers had been freed of the slave coding, making sure everyone had what they needed. Knock Out and Bulkhead had each gulped down two cubes of energon, only realizing how hungry they were after their fears of losing their partners had been eliminated. Soundwave had taken a cube himself, but was content to sit quietly and leisurely sip at it, with Laserbeak in his lap once more. He had seemed to be very deep in thought, if the faraway look in his optics was anything to go by, but Megatron had not asked about it.

Optimus had insisted that Ratchet retire for the evening, pointing out the number of sleepless nights Ratchet had spent working with Shockwave, and the stress that this ordeal had put on everyone.

Ratchet had only put up a small fight before finally agreeing with his friend. After checking on the others one last time, he had left for his own berthroom, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. Shockwave had excused himself not long after.

All that had been left was for them to share the good news with the rest of the ship.

The bridge echoed with the triumphant cries of the crew. Smokescreen gave Bumblebee a high five before moving to return the hug Arcee so willingly offered him. Optimus thought that he could see the young elite guard’s optics shimmering, and for a moment Arcee appeared to be murmuring something into his audio receiver. But Optimus could not bring himself to question the obviously private exchange.

Raf, Miko, and Jack all cheered from their vantage point on the consoles, and June collapsed into Fowler’s arms with a small relieved sob, her eyes filling with joyful tears. Fowler held her close, his own shoulders slumping as if released from an unseen weight.

“When can I see Wheeljack!?” Miko danced near the edge of the console, practically vibrating with energy.

“I believe it would be best to wait for Bulkhead to accompany your visit,” Optimus told her, a small smile playing over his face, “They both need time to themselves.”

Miko let out an exasperated sigh, but the smile never left her face, “Fine!” She jumped back to Jack and Raf, hugging both of them tightly.

Across the room, Tripline had one arm around Lightyear’s shoulders, hugging the Eradicon as he covered his face with one servo, wing panels lowered from his strut melting relief. Their optical bands were bright, a sign that Optimus had learned most often meant they were smiling, and as he watched, Lightyear leaned more heavily against Tripline’s side. They both looked up when Bumblebee approached them, whirring happily. Lightyear straightened up quickly, and Tripline’s arm fell from his shoulders, but they remained close to each other as they struck up a conversation with the young scout.

“They’ll be celebrating for a while,” Megatron turned his attention back to Optimus, voice low so that only the Prime could hear. “Perhaps now would be a good time to for us to talk. We have a lot to discuss, after all.”

Optimus gave a small, tight smile, his field pulled in close, almost unreadable, “Unfortunately, General Bryce will require a detailed report on our progress tonight, I will need to-“

“Let the human do it.” Megatron barely held his annoyance in check, his optics flashing, “Is that not part of the agent’s job?”

“Agent Fowler was not there at the time of the codes completion, or use,” Optimus said gently, clearly trying to placate him, “The sooner I finish the report, the better. Please, excuse me.” He offered another, almost forced smile, and made his way to the door.

Megatron watched as he walked out, slowly curling his servos into fists.

How long was Optimus going to keep this up?

How long was he going to avoid him?

_Not much longer._ Megatron growled to himself. He was tired of this game. Chalking the behavior up to stress and worry no longer served to calm him. Optimus was avoiding him on purpose, and Megatron wanted to know why.

After checking in with a few Vehicons, and catching Arcee’s attention so that both factions knew to call for one of them should a situation arise, Megatron excused himself from the bridge.

It was time for he and Optimus to have a little talk.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Despite what he had said, Optimus did not immediately seek out a place to write out his report. His new quarters, a simple berthroom he had moved into once he and Megatron had taken their respective codes, seemed too cramped at the moment, and his processor was buzzing with too many thoughts for him to be able to effectively focus on writing anything.

He had to do something to occupy himself, though, or he would end up back in the medical bay, hovering over the injured mechs who were trying to rest.

So, with no other options appealing to him, Optimus retreated to a communal wash rack on the third level of the ship, on the opposite side from the bridge. No one would bother him there; he suspected many of them would remain on the bridge or in the rec room for most of the night.

The hot solvent felt wonderful on his plating. Optimus stood beneath a nozzle, servos splayed on the wall, head lowered, and let it wash over his neck and back. Plating flared just enough to let the solvent wash beneath it and lap at sensitive circuitry.

Optimus closed his optics, and tried to relax, focusing on the sound of the solvent pounding against the back of his helm

So he didn’t hear anyone approach him until it was too late.

A servo clamped around his arm and yanked him around before he was shoved back, wrists pinned against the wall on either side of his head.

He gasped, only fighting the instinct to kick out when he saw Megatron’s red optics, almost glowing in the steam from the shower.

“Megatron! What are you-“

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Megatron cut him off with a growl, stepping closer to him. Their chests were almost brushing against each other, and Optimus squirmed slightly as Megatron’s field, heavy and insistent, washed over him. “Why?”

“We have both been busy, there has been much to go over-”

“We could have gone over it together,” Megatron interrupted him again, “But you insisted on hiding from me, making excuses, dodging around my attempts to work with you. _Why?_ ”

Optimus hesitated, took a slow breath, “I thought you would appreciate some time apart, considering the codes we carried-”

“Liar.”

Optimus fell silent. Megatron’s grip around his wrists tightened.

“You knew I didn’t want time away from you. You were the one actively avoiding me. No matter what I said, no matter what I did; you found a way to separate yourself from me. Why? I won’t ask again.”

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rush of the solvent, still raining down to the floor.

Optimus let out a heavy sigh and dropped his gaze, “I was afraid…”

Megatron’s optics widened. He went still, clearly not expecting the answer he was given.

“The slave coding, the code you entrusted me with…it gave me so much power over you…I could have commanded you to do anything…I have never wanted that much control over anyone, or anything…” Optimus swallowed, thinking back to the agony Dreadwing and Wheeljack had been in, the condition in which they had found Soundwave, “It gave me power I have never wanted. Power that has only led to corruption and pain.”

His field flickered, slowly coloring with shame.

“Truthfully, it sickened me, just the thought of carrying it.” There was a hesitation, a pause where Optimus appeared to prepare himself for what he was about to say. His servos clenched into fists. “But I would be lying if I said I never considered using it…” the words tasted bitter on his glossa, “Even after everything we have been through, all of us, together, a small part of me wanted to put the code to use, to ensure this war met its end and that our truce would remain. It frightened me.”

Optimus closed his optics, unable to even think of looking back up at Megatron, “I was the one who needed space…I was afraid of what I might do if I lingered too closely…”

The servos around his wrists squeezed ever so slightly, just enough to be felt, a silent request for his attention. It took everything Optimus had to bring himself to look up, his optics opening slowly so that he could meet Megatron’s gaze.

Red optics were soft, and bright with an almost awe-filled wonder. A little smile was pulling at Megatron’s mouth, tender and warm, and Optimus was amazed at the youth that small action returned to his features.

“I understand, now, why they chose you…the Council, the matrix…” Megatron’s voice was quiet, just loud enough to be heard over the running shower, “I didn’t fully understand, not truly, until I saw the way you looked at me when I responded to your commands.”

Optimus swallowed, but did not look away.

“You are strong, Optimus Prime, and stubborn. But kind, and concerned for those around you. It fascinated me, when we first met, how you so easily managed to be both. You agreed with me during our talks of overthrowing an entire government, and in the same breath fought with me about the value of life…all life. Even after all this time, after millennia of war and bloodshed, I knew I could trust you with Shockwave’s creation.”

“How?”

“Because you hesitated. In the cave, while I was helpless beneath your blaster, you were ready to fire. You were ready to end everything. But you hesitated. Even before Dreadwing and the others arrived, you held back. Ending the war was as easy for you then as it would have been now, with the code under your control. You did not pull the trigger then. I trusted you would not pull it now.”

Optimus’ spark pounded in its casing. His glossa was frozen, his mind at a loss. What did he say? How was he to respond to that?

“The coding is gone now, Optimus,” was his mind playing tricks, or had Megatron moved closer? “You do not need to worry about controlling yourself. We are equals again.”

His voice box clicked as he cleared his throat, just managing to find his voice again. “We have always been equals, Megatron…”

And the tiny smile that had been tugging at Megatron’s lips suddenly grew, spreading across his scarred faceplate as he leaned in closer, his optics burning into Optimus’. He paused just before their lips could meet, his breath whispering against Optimus’ faceplate.

“I’ve missed you…”

Optimus swallowed again, his chest tightening with more emotions than he could count, “These past few days have been lonely…”

Megatron chuckled softly, “Optimus…” and the slow, tender way that his name fell from Megatron’s glossa had Optimus’ spark fluttering like a newbuilds, “I have missed you for so much longer than that…”

His spark clenched, painful in the most amazing ways, and Optimus could not stop himself from leaning forward that last half an inch, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against Megatron’s, the kiss gentle, and still cautious.

Their lips molded together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place. Megatron moved closer, pressing his chest to Optimus’, his servos still holding the Prime’s wrists in place.

They parted slowly, optics opening to meet each other, red and blue glowing brightly together.

Optimus’ spark was pounding, and through Megatron’s thick armor, he could feel the quickened rhythm of a second spark. He inhaled slowly, shakily, his gaze never wavering. Megatron’s throat constricted as he swallowed, his lips were parted just slightly.

When Optimus pushed against his hold, he let him go in an instant, servos dropping to grab slim blue hips and yank them forward against his own. Optimus’ servos flew up to cup Megatron’s jaw, pulling him back for a second, more heated kiss.

Lips parted almost immediately, glossas danced against each other, and the muffled moan Optimus let out was hungrily swallowed by Megatron as they pulled each other closer, leaving no space between their bodies.

Cooling fans clicked on when Megatron dragged his servos over Optimus’ thighs, up and down, re-familiarizing himself with their shape. Optimus shivered, one arm moving to curl around Megatron’s neck, his second servo dropping down to glide over his chest, digits quickly tracing over the curves and sharp edges of his plating. A low growl rumbled through Megatron, the slight vibrations making Optimus inhale sharply, when blunted digits traced over the vents on his stomach.

Megatron pulled away from the kiss, lowering his head so that he could leave a trail of hungry kisses down Optimus’ throat, starting from the corner of his jaw and moving toward his shoulder. Optimus gasped, optics half shuttering, and tilted his head back in open invitation. It was well received, and the pleased rumble of Megatron’s engine sent _sinful_ vibrations buzzing across Optimus’ armor.

Digits began to move with less grace, the gentle touches turning slightly desperate as Optimus dragged his servo down Megatron’s back, pressing the warlord closer to his body as he went. He was pushed harder against the wall in response, pinned between the suddenly cold to the touch metal and Megatron’s rapidly heating form.

Sharp denta grazed over sensitive wires and cables. Megatron grinned deviously against Optimus’ neck when the latter shuddered with a barely concealed moan. He nipped at a cable.

“Do not hide yourself from me…” his voice was barely more than a growl in Optimus’ audial receiver, rough with lust and desire that was barely held in check. Optimus’ servos shifted, coming up to grip at his shoulders, and when Megatron returned to nipping along those tantalizing wires in his neck, Optimus did not hold back the low, deep moan that grew in his chest.

Megatron’s servos continued to move, gliding up silver thighs, over glorious blue hips, and down to grab possessively at Optimus’ aft, laying claim to what had once been his, and what was soon be his again. Optimus could not hold back his gasp, and before he knew it he found himself pressing back into the touch, enjoying the sensation of Megatron’s servos on him once again. It had been too long…

When Megatron pulled himself away from Optimus’ neck, both of them were breathing hard, their fans running at high speed to try to cool them off. The solvent that continued to fall from the shower head evaporated almost as soon as it made contact, filling the washrags with a thick curtain of steam.

They said nothing at first, simply watching each other as they attempted to catch their breath. Megatron lowered his head, capturing Optimus’ lips in a slow, heavy kiss once, twice, before resting his forehead against Optimus’.

“Come to berth…”

Optimus could only nod.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The trip to Megatron’s berthroom… _their_ berthroom…passed in a blur. Optimus couldn’t remember how many turns they’d made, or if they’d managed to pass anyone on the way, but he could clearly recall Megatron falling behind him just for the advantage of grabbing at his hips as they sped-walked to their destination. Twice they found themselves pressed against walls, servos wandering freely as their glossas danced over denta. By the time they stumbled through the door, all but punching the console on the inside to seal it behind them, they were practically locked together, gripping arms and shoulders and hips as they walked as one, pedes somehow managing to find their way to the berth without becoming tangled.

They stumbled slightly near the small steps leading to the in-suite sitting area. Optimus’ pede slipped over the edge of the first step, his balance shifting as he struggled to compensate for the loss of footing. Megatron caught him easily, unthinkingly, his large servo easily cupping around one of Optimus’ hips and pulling him away from the edge. Optimus gave a small gasp of surprise, both at his loss of balance and at the sudden grip, but the sound quickly turned to a muffled moan as Megatron caught his bottom lip between his denta, scraping the sharp tips lightly against the thin lip plate.

Together, still locked in their ever heating embrace, they moved toward the berth, feeling blindly for the steps leading up to it. How they made it up the short set of stairs without stumbling would forever remain a mystery. Neither of them wanted to divert even a tiny bit of attention to anything other than each other.

Megatron grinned into their fevered kiss when the back of Optimus’ knees hit the edge of the berth; the only warning the Prime received before he was shoved backwards onto the soft surface. He had barely enough time to look up before Megatron was on him again, grabbing his wrists and pinning his servos above his head once more as he kissed him hungrily.

Optimus kissed back, just as eager, just as desperate, his servos clenching into fists to make up for the fact that he had nothing to cling to. Their bodies were pressed tight against each other, with no room for even air to come between them. Chest to chest, hips grinding in slow, short motions, they pressed closer, sparks pounding a fevered rhythm in their chests. EM fields, left open and unrestrained for the first time in millennia, wove together without hesitation.

Emotions of relief, arousal, and desperation blended with the shared physical sensations of pleasure. Both mechs let out loud moans as the feelings seemed to amplify, their own experience shared and mirrored and returned to them through the ever tightening weave of their fields. 

A low keen rumbled between them, its origins unknown.

Slowly, Megatron allowed his grip to relax around Optimus’ wrists. His servos began to slide down strong arms, digits feeling over every edge and dip of sturdy armor. Optimus shuddered beneath him as his touch moved down, gliding over Optimus’ sides. Megatron pulled away from their kiss and lowered his head, lips and glossa finding their way to his neck cables once more.

Optimus tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and groaned, optics half closing. For the first time in a very, very long time, he allowed someone else to take control.

It was over. It was finally over. All the war and pain and anger, at the Council, at each other…it was over. The wounds that had bled and hurt for centuries finally began to close, soothed and cleansed by every touch and kiss that Megatron pressed against his body.  It was not a permanent solution, the wounds nowhere near healed. That would take more time, time for trust to flourish and for mistakes to be forgiven. But it was a start, much wanted and eagerly accepted. Optimus was more than happy to enjoy the moment for what it was.

It had been too long.

Megatron’s servos were firm, but tender, running over his body in a way that was both worshipful and dominating. Optimus was pressed against the berth, pinned beneath his weight, held in place as Megatron reclaimed what was his with mouth and servo. Sharpened denta nipped at a wire, and Optimus gasped deeply as his body arched, pressing even tighter against Megatron. A pleased growl rumbled through his audio receiver, and the servos that now stroked over his hips tightened their grip, holding him still as Megatron ground down harder against his codpiece.

Optimus groaned and brought his servos down, one falling to hold Megatron closer against his neck, the other moving to grip and pull at the armor on his back.

Servos wandered again, hungry and desperate for more. Megatron moaned, deep and rough, when flat digits slipped under his armor, stroking at his protoform. He shifted, leaning up to kiss Optimus again, pressing his glossa into his willing mouth, drinking in his sounds of pleasure as if they were the finest visco. When he pulled away, both of them were breathing hard, but they did not pause. Megatron moved back down, kissing Optimus’ throat, his shoulder, shifting his body down so he could trail his lips across the edge of one windshield.

Optimus inhaled sharply as a hot glossa ran slowly over the gray protrusion that made up his sternum, dragging his digits up Megatron’s back roughly. His helm fell back again, his servos curling around the spikes on Megatron’s shoulders.

Megatron continued, moving down to Optimus’ stomach, glossa mapping out the lines of his plating. The sharp tang of Optimus’ body was different, stronger and bolder, and yet it was still the same as it had all those years ago, the taste alluring and addicting. He remembered falling for it, in a time long passed, when he had laid Orion Pax in his berth for the first time. They had moved slower then, more keen on learning about each other, on mapping out the places that made the other squirm and pant.

This time was different. There was no need to search, no need to explore. They fell together as if they had never been apart, touches as sure as they were needy, already knowing where to caress. Megatron nipped at the shimmering blue of Optimus’ hip, servos sliding down over his thighs once more, and grinned when Optimus shuddered, another deep moan rolling through his chest.

He moved lower, arms sliding beneath Optimus’ thighs to spread them open, servos curling around his hips and holding them firmly to the berth. For a moment, just a moment, he paused, heated breath washing over Optimus’ spike panel, and glanced up.

Optimus had released his hold on his shoulders, and now his servos were up by his head, gripping loosely at the mesh pillows. His head was still tilted back, but as Megatron watched, he slowly lifted it up, opening his optics to look down. Their optics met, and suddenly time stood still.

Megatron’s optics burned bright, a crimson inferno of lust and hunger. They were the optics of a beast, ready to take what he wanted, hold it close, and tear apart all who threatened to take it from him.

Optimus’ glowed with energy, a piercing blue, brighter than any strike of lightning. They were filled with desire and something else. Something that Megatron had not seen in them in a long time. Too long.

Peace.

There was a sliver of peace in his optics, and a warm ghost of joy whose absence had not been noticed until now. It stole Megatron’s breath away. He had not seen those emotions in Optimus’ optics since the last time they had lain together, as Orion and Megatronus. The night had been long, their lovemaking slow and tender, and Orion’s optics had shimmered with the raw emotions, almost painful in their intensity.

Emotions that had disappeared from his optics, replaced by pain and confusion, when Megatron had stormed from the Council’s hall.

Now they were back; a pale shadow of what they once were, but they were there, and that was what mattered.

Warring emotions suddenly clutched at Megatron’s spark. Part anger, part intense, sharp arousal.

He had wiped those emotions from Orion’s optics, crushed them beneath his heel out of spite. But he was also the one to bring them back, see them rekindled and living in Optimus.

And suddenly he could no longer control himself. Whatever he had been planning between Optimus’ spread thighs disappeared from his thoughts as he shot back up, all but pouncing back over his Prime.

Optimus saw him coming, and when their lips crashed together in a savage kiss, he wrapped his arms around him, servo pressing on the back of his helm, holding him tight.

There was the faint sound of panels sliding open, almost simultaneously, and both mechs gave muffles moans as their spikes rubbed against each other, hot and slick with prefluid.

Megatron reached down with one servo, reaching between their bodies. Optimus tore away from the kiss with a sudden cry when sharpened digits pressed against his valve, rubbing along the rubbery rim slowly but with demanding pressure. Megatron pressed one digit inside, rumbling his pleasure at the wet, tight heat that greeted him.

He pressed in deep, curling his digit just slightly, and grinned when Optimus bucked up under him, another deep cry escaping his lips as Megatron stroked along his ceiling node.

It had been too long, he had not been touched like this is millennia, and his nerve receptors now seemed sensitive to every caress. The sensation was both too much and not enough.

Megatron seemed to know exactly how he felt, and used it to his advantage. He rutted against him, spikes sliding against each other and against their abdominal plating, and continued to curl his digit within Optimus’ valve. Optimus moaned loudly, servos clinging to Megatron’s shoulders as he rocked his own hips against him. He started slightly when Megatron suddenly kissed him again, claiming his mouth with glossa and denta so that he could drink in his muffled sounds of pleasure.

A second digit rubbed against the entrance to his valve, and Optimus shuddered, overwhelmed with sensations. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, _needed_ more, and his patience, worn thin from the moment in the washracks, suddenly broke.

He grabbed at Megatron’s hips roughly, tugging them insistently against his own body. He didn’t want to wait anymore, didn’t want to waste any more time with foreplay and preparations. He had longed for this moment for so long…

And Megatron knew exactly what he was trying to say. A low snarl escaped him, the sound sinful in Optimus’ audio receivers, and he pulled his servo away from Optimus’ valve, bringing it up to wrap around his own spike instead. He pulled away from the kiss as he positioned himself, pressing his forehead against Optimus’ so that he could look into his optics.

Optimus met his gaze without hesitation, mouth open slightly as he panted softly.

They watched each other, entranced by the unbridled emotions that flickered through optics and fields.

And then Megatron pressed forward, his spike slipping into Optimus’ valve in one continuous thrust, and Optimus could not contain his cry. His head fell back again, optics sliding closed.

Primus he missed this.

Megatron’s spike stretched his valve perfectly, the small ridges that formed on the underside scraping deliciously against his tender walls. There was a twinge of pain for only a moment, as the rim of his valve was suddenly stretched more than it had been in years. But it passed, chased away by the shocks of pleasure that coursed through his neural net. Optimus lost himself in the feeling, trying to focus on all points of it at once.

The spike in his valve, hot and thick and throbbing in eager anticipation. The hot breath against the tender parts of his neck, panted from the mech above him. The grip of a servo on his hip, holding him tight.

Optimus drew his legs up, clenching his thighs around Megatron’s hips, his pedes pressing flat against the berth. The servo on his hip slid down instantly, sliding up his thigh to hold it securely in place. He moaned, low and soft, when a firm glossa slowly traced along the edge of his jaw.

His servos fell away from Megatron’s hips, one coming to rest on the arm holding his thigh, the other moving back up to the back of Megatron’s helm, digits gently stroking over the metal.

Megatron’s free servo stopped the caress, coming up to grab Optimus’ servo and guide it down, back against the pillows beside his helm. Optimus looked up, meeting Megatron’s gaze again, curious. Megatron did not look away from him, optics never wavering as he pressed the servo down, his own servo sliding up from Optimus’ wrist. There was a pause, the slightest hesitation, and then Megatron was lacing their digits together, holding Optimus’ servo in his own.

Optimus curled his digits around his servo instantly, holding tight.

The tiniest of smiles was shared between them, the softness of the gesture a counter to the sharp hunger that still surged within them. Megatron pressed their foreheads together again, looking deep into Optimus’ optics, before drawing his hips back.

They broke on the first thrust.

Pleasure erupted between them as sensors and nodes, which had lain dormant for centuries, lit up like super novas. Optimus cried out, Megatron growled, his hips rocking in a relentless, powerful rhythm. He was not overly quick, but each thrust was deep and strong, and he ground into Optimus whenever they came back together, feeling the heat of Optimus’ spike where it rubbed against his abdominal plating. His hips pressed down heavily, keeping the Prime pinned beneath him, giving him no choice but to take the pleasure he was given.

Optimus’ head pressed back against the pillows, his servo scrabbling at Megatron’s arm as he moaned wordlessly. Megatron buried his head against his neck, letting grunts and growls escape him between the heated, open mouth kisses he placed against cables and wires and energon lines.

The sounds of metal clanging together filled the room, growing in volume and intensity as they began to move faster, harder, the resulting pleasure only making them crave more.

It was too much all at once, too much after so being apart for so long. Neither of them wanted to stop, but neither of them could hold back.

Optimus reached his climax with a rough yell, body arching up as much as it was able. His grip on Megatron’s arm tightened almost painfully, and he yelled again when Megatron bit at his throat.

Megatron held back for only a moment longer, rutting his hips harder to draw out Optimus’ overload. But the tight heat around his spike, which only grew tighter and hotter as Optimus’ rode out his peak, was too much to ignore; the nodes along his spike were almost overwhelmed with sensation, and bolts of pleasure shot through his neural net like lightning.

When Megatron hit his overload, his loud, guttural yell was matched by another deep cry from Optimus. They clung to each other; optics shut tight, fields expanding to fill the room with their completion.

They came back to themselves slowly, breathing hard as the waves of pleasure began to ebb. Optimus gave a soft moan. Megatron rumbled back, a wordless agreement, before nuzzling against Optimus’ throat, sliding his mouth against it in soft, barely there kisses. His lips trailed a path up to his jaw, tracing along it feather light, before he tiled his head up. Optimus moved to meet him, lifting his head from the berth and tilting his chin down.

The kiss was soft, a slow pressing of lips; unhurried, the hunger from before sated. It was warm, it was lazy, and when they pulled away, their faces were softened by easy, tired smiles.

Megatron lowered his head to touch their foreheads together once more.

Optimus reached up to cup his jaw, thumb trailing over the side of his helm.

And on the pillows beside them, pressed deep into the soft mesh cushions, their servos remained tightly intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti*
> 
> [Tumblr](http://chills-of-fire.tumblr.com/)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/chillsoffire/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rekindling A Planet Is Not A Solo Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381416) by [ZofiaQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZofiaQueen/pseuds/ZofiaQueen)




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